Chasing the Dragon
by JennyDear813
Summary: AU Modern Day:Cassarah is a recovering drug addict who has been given a second chance as a dancer for the Opera. Everything changes when, on a dare, she runs into the legend of the opera ghost. She saw a man, not a specter and suddenly finds herself thrust into the whirlwind of his life. Then, one night changes the course of everything. Can he give up his life to save another?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My heart raced beneath my chest as I lowered the needle down toward its target. The point rested only for a moment before I took a breath and plunged it into my skin. Searing pain ripped through my arm as the sweet venom began to course through my veins. I emptied the vial and instantly began to feel my body lift into the heavens. My head slumped back against the tattered couch and my mind flooded with wild images of demons and heinous beasts. The utter sensation of itching, burning flames rippled up my arms. I looked down to see them turn black and slowly begin to rot away. Blood spilled over and down my bare legs, hitting the floor with an audible pat. Patches of skin curdled and rolled away as this infection spread up my limbs. I couldn't stop it, and the pain was too much to bear.

"Cassie...Cassie wake up!" I heard her say in the fog of my reverie. "Cassie wake up, it's only a dream."

My eyes shot open and saw a figure of a girl leaning over me. "Kristina?"

"You were having one of your dreams again. I heard you from my room."

The sheets were stuck to me like glue and beads of sweat ran down the sides of my face. It was another one of those dreams. They said back in rehab that these were common upon recovering addicts. It was all too familiar to me. Shaking off the nightmare, I rose up from the bed, peeled off the covers and lit up a cigarette. Kristina backed away for a moment and returned to me with a cold glass of water. We had been roommates for two years now, and she learned exactly what to expect.

"Thank you. I'm sorry- you'd think after so many years I wouldn't have this issue anymore." I raised the glass to my lips and took in the cool, refreshing liquid.

"Don't worry about it, Cass. I wish you didn't have to experience this." Half smiling, she got up and walked out the door. "Hurry up and get dressed. We're going to be late again."

Shit. It was already 7 and practice began at 8. Shaking off the remainder of the nightmare, I put the glass down on my nightstand, stubbed out the smoke and set to find something to wear. I hadn't done laundry in a week and a half so a pair of leggings and an oversized tank would have to suffice. This would be my fourth year at the Opera House, and my second actually involved in productions. They didn't trust me at first to be in anything, but only to learn and stand in as an understudy in case one was needed. Last fall, one of the leading dancers had fallen sick with the flu and they had no choice but to replace her with me. Little did they know I made sure I was perfect that night. From then on, they never second guessed me. Granted, I was always made out to be the rebel, the addict, the reject who lost control of my life. They could not deny me of my talent, and for that I remained clean and more determined than ever to get my life back.

Kristina popped her head back into my room to check on my progress. "I'm about ready to go."

I shoved the rest of my belongings into my backpack and made for the door. Our apartment was modest, but it was quaint and homey. It was part of the agreement when they first decided to take me on as a protégé- to provide me living, food and a guaranteed babysitter.

Kristina was the Soprano in training at the Opera. She was young, prude but her beauty was bested by no one. She had come from a rather wealthy Parisian family who adopted her when she was very young. She devoted all her time to her arts and had little interest in normal, everyday leisure. Yet, she was the sweetest friend and never once cast a prejudice against me and my sins. She was always supportive of my endeavors and even if she wasn't, she was never chastising. She had been the closest thing I've ever had to a family; she was my shining light in an ever growing dark world.

The air was brisk with the threat of fall closing in. A few of the surrounding trees had already begun to change, their leaves beginning to darken and die. The streets were alive with the hum of cars and buses and people trudging down the sidewalks, their attentions cast down at their cell phones. We blended into the stampede and started toward the Opera House. Kristina talked to me about her rehearsals, explaining that starting this week she'd be staying late to be coached privately by the head maestro - Monsieur Bellamy. I told her of our dance routine and how practice was beginning today for the new Act. The last two weeks have been spent learning Act 1, which wasn't complicated in the least. I was partnered with my friend Alex, a bright young man with handsome features and beautiful brown eyes. He was a potential prospect.

"My god, Cass. Weren't you just out on a date Saturday with Derek?" Kristina scoffed.

"So?" A giggle escaped me as the cigarette dangled from my lips. "I like to keep my options open. Plus, what's the fun in settling?"

"How can you even concentrate on guys when we are learning a new production? I can hardly ever think of anything else. It's like it consumes me." She wrung her hands tightly around each other.

"You, my dear friend, are what we call a perfectionist..." I saw her brows furrow.

"I am not!" She pouted.

"By the way you missed a button..." I said, gesturing toward her coat with my cigarette.

Kristina's hands instinctively shot to her abdomen. Looking down, she realized that I lied. "There is nothing wrong with looking your best."

"Pfft. You're already the prettiest of us all. Mirror, mirror..." I rolled my eyes and looked at my watch. "Shit, its 7:30! Let's pick up the pace."

We rushed into the south side entrance of the Opera house and at the end of the hallway; we parted ways with a quick hug; her to the left where the choir practice was being held, and me to the right where they were holding dance rehearsals. I entered just in the nick of time.

The hall was large, with the walls covered in mirrors and balance beams lined the entire back of the room.

"Fall in, everyone. Fall in." Frank called out to the gaggle of ballet dancers flocking around the rehearsal room. "We start in five for the warm up and stretch."

"Hey Cassie!" Alex cat-called from the corner of the room. "And here I thought you weren't going to show up today."

"I like to surprise and delight." I winked and nudged him in his side. God was he built. He had the typical male dancer physique; tall, lean and muscular. "Have you been working on your entrechat?"

"Maybe. Have you been practicing your plié? I could always show you some tips..." He grinned, grabbing the curve of my side as his embrace trailed down to my hip.

"Maybe you should concentrate on our pas de deux. I wouldn't want to out dance you yet again."

"Is that a challenge?" His grip tightened. I pirouetted away from him and flashed him a devilish smile. "You're on, you tease."

"Alright! Fall in line for stretch counts."

The rest of the company lined up behind one another, one hand on the balance beam, the other arced out in front for first position. Frank counted through our stretches while I devised a plan in my head to shame my little friend yet again. We did these childish games often. Both our prides forbid defeat. The one thing I had against Alex in this instance was my womanly figure. He couldn't tear his eyes off me. I pointedly dipped extra low in front of him, enticing his imagination. Every rise and bow was exaggerated in front of his eyes. After the stretch and warm up was completed, I felt confident in my challenge.

"Alright people. Let's split up. The corps de ballet-over to that end. Cassarah and Alexander, my two leads, please come over here."

For the next four hours, we learned the first half of the second act which included a very beautiful performance between Alex and me. By the time we were done, Frank wanted everyone to come together to rehearse what we all learned. I stood to the side while the company gathered in the center of the room. They began their dance. They were graceful yet clumsy. They would need a lot of work to perfect this number. The stage manager called us over for our rendition of what we learned. My heart raced in my chest, echoing the beat of my pulse in my head. This is the closest feeling I have found to the drug that nearly took my life. I craved this feeling every moment of every day.

Alex stood behind me, his hands resting on my sides and mine encompassing his. Once the music began, I melted into the melody and swayed with the harmony. My partner in turn reciprocated my grace and passion. When we finished our dance aria, Frank rejoiced in us.

"This ladies and gentlemen, is how you perform ballet! Bravo, you two. Keep it up. Alex, wonderful job today. You really outdid yourself. As for you..." He pointed to the company. "We will need extra rehearsals this weekend. Clear your calendars. Dismissed."

I lost! How could I have lost? I put everything into that dance and yet Alex was praised. The little brat. I can only imagine what punishment he will have in store. The last time I lost, I had to ask Frank out on a rather audacious date. Needless to exaggerate, he declined and also threatened to demote me for the rest of the season. I crossed my arms as his smugness sauntered towards me. I couldn't help but smirk, he was so cute that way.

"This time, Cass, we do a double dare. We are going to pursue a certain ghost story. Jacque said he found a way into one of the hidden passages that leads down to the basement of the opera house." He ushered me passed a group of ballet dancers and out of the rehearsal hall. "You believe in that shit?"

"I've heard rumors of things disappearing, people being chased away from certain corridors. But that's mostly down the choir hallways."

"Let's go exploring! His eyes grew wide with excitement.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I protested. "Those passageways are falling apart, we could get seriously hurt."

"What!? Are you scared? Of a ghost story?"

"...More like crushing to death. But, you win. We'll do it tonight after my appointment. That way everyone has been gone for the night."

"What are we going to do until then? I have a 1 o'clock workshop but that's it."

"I can think of a few things." I flirted, leaning toward him, my eyes burning with need. "We could work on my pliés."

x

A few hours later, we emerged from one of the vacant dressing rooms. Our faces were flushed from our scandalous rendezvous. Alex planted a gentle kiss on my lips just as an instructor turned down the hallway. We quickly parted and began to chirp about the upcoming performance. The instructor gave us a quizzical look before hastily continuing his plight down the remainder of the corridor. Once the man was out of sight, we both let out a rush of air and giggled.

"I missed my 1 o'clock." Alex said smirking, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The time!

"Shit! What time is it!?" I asked, reaching for my phone and realized I left my bag in the rehearsal room before we snuck here.

Alex dug out his phone from his pocket. "It's almost 3. Why, what's wrong?"

"I have an appointment at 4! I can't miss it. Shit." I turned the opposite way of the exit and began to rush down the hall.

"Where are you going? Exits this way?"

"I forgot my bag."

"Don't forget we meet up tonight around 8. Don't chicken out!"

That's the very last thing I'd ever do. My pride was too great for a guy like Alex to best me. 'Chicken out...pfft.'

Arriving at the rehearsal room, I shoved my shoulder into the door and barged in. It was pitch black, with only the gleam of the hallway lights reflecting off the mirrors. I scoured the room until my eyes caught a dark heap on the ground in the corner where it was abandoned. I stalked towards it, suddenly becoming aware of the weirdest sensation. The hair on my arms stood on end and a tantalizing chill ran down the length of my spine. Strange, it almost felt like someone was watching me. I bent down to pick up my bag when from behind me I heard a hushed footstep and then the click of the door closing. A gasp escaped my lips and sweat began to prickle under my arms. Without a second thought, I turned and ran for the door, half expecting for it to be locked. Light plunged onto my face as the door was ripped open. Sweet relief fled my senses, my chest heaving from the adrenaline. An estranged laugh stole from my mouth at the absurdity of the event that just transpired.

Reality slapped me into motion. I dug through my bag, passing over any shape that wasn't my phone. Finally, after what felt like an eternity I glanced down to the time displayed on the screen. I had 45 minutes to make this appointment. I had no choice but to be there on time or else it would jeopardize my rehabilitation and my employment here. With a determined air, I dropped my phone back into my bag, slung it over my shoulder and ran towards the exit.

X

Dr. Bradley sat stoically against the tall, oak chair. Her eyes glanced down at the notepad resting on her lap. When she looked back up at me, her eyes hinted towards sympathy.

"So how has your recovery been this past month?" She twirled her pen between her fingers, awaiting my response.

"Doing better... it's something I deal with every day. It was a constant reminder of my choices as a young adult. I was stupid and lovelorn." I stared up at the ceiling. I hated these meetings, her prying and her feigned sympathy.

"Have you heard anything about the custody of your son?" She asked, regarding me carefully with her wrinkled, hazel eyes.

My arms wrapped around my stomach instantly to try and squelch the pain and the weight of that question. My son... His name was Andre. He was now four years old, raised at the hands of strangers 40 miles away from here. I wasn't allowed to visit him and I haven't seen him in over 3 years. The court granted me written updates but as for physical confrontations- forbidden. The pain of losing my son was like nothing I've ever endured. It's worse than all the times I have ever suffered through withdraw and it was the sole reason why I agreed to therapy. I've tried to purposely overdose 6 times in the last 4 years. I would do anything to see him again, to touch him and to hold him. The scent of his infant head still lingered in my good dreams but his face was always a blur. I've written an appeal to stay clean for two years, attend regular psychological evaluations and remain at the opera house for the chance to win supervised visits with him. The ultimate goal would be to be awarded full custody again. I always chose my words carefully knowing that fate balanced on my answers.

"No. I haven't..." I whispered, fearing if I spoke too much, my insides would force their way out. "I haven't heard anything in over two months."

She studied me carefully, scribbling some unforeseen judgement down onto her notebook. "Does this cause you anxiety? How do you deal with that?"

"It causes me heart break more than anything. What kind of person can I be knowing that my son was taken away from me? Knowing I caused him suffering, even for a brief moment because I was so wrapped up in my own reality. I'll never forgive myself for it..." Tears silently welled up into my eyes threatening to flood over. Blinking quickly, I pushed on to answer her question. "I deal with this pain through my dancing and the distraction of the performances. I can get lost in it..."

Dr. Bradley lowered the notebook back down to her lap. Her fingers elegantly pushed her horned glasses further up the bridge of her nose and she shifted the weight between her legs. "Cass, it's wonderful that you have stayed clean this long. It's the longest stretch I have seen yet, and for that I can congratulate you. But...emotionally, you are not progressing enough. You should be able to date by now and be able to feel real connections with people. And we just aren't there."

"I...well..." My head hung low and my shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

She was right in the way that towards men, I could not openly feel any real emotion for them. Sure, I could feel attraction, lust, yearning in a sexual essence. I had no issues there but the minute I saw that look in their eyes, I bolted.

Six long years ago, I had met Peter at a party one of my best friends was having. He was tall, smart, funny and could play the guitar. We had an instant connection, like exploding fireworks, bright and beautiful. After about eight months of dating, we moved in together and he shared with me the most evil, yet purest form of ecstasy you could ever imagine. As I sat on the stiff, leather chair, I transported myself back to that first night.

I remembered it as clear as an autumn morning. Our apartment was just a step above an abandoned building, its walls curdling and peeled. The ceilings had huge, rotting holes in them, like black voids to the underworld. There was at least running water but you were lucky if it ever became warm. I didn't care though. I didn't care that we slept on a tattered mattress, as if we were prisoners of war. I didn't care that we hardly had food to spare or that we could hardly pay rent. I was so much in love with him and that devil of a drug.  
That fateful night, we had lit candles everywhere, and we lay upon the floor together. Peter stood up and stalked over to one of the kitchen cabinets and brought back a scantly decorated cigar box.

"What's that?" I asked, my brows furrowing to a point.

He exhaled deeply. "I want to share something with you that I've never shared with anyone else. You're gonna be afraid at first, but I promise you. This will make us closer than we've ever been." He quickly planted a kiss on my lips. "You ready?"

I shook my head. He opened the box and pulled out a bag of stuff I've never seen before. It was a black, sappy looking substance that clung to the tiny package it was in. Peter took some of the substance out and smeared it onto a spoon. I watched with raw curiosity as he worked to get the substance just right in the utensil. Next, he reached into the cigar box and pulled out what looked like a needle inside a sealed package.

"Woah! What is that for!?" I asked, scooting away from the box and the needle he held.

"Relax, babe. I promise you, this is going to be the best night of our lives. I have never shared this before. You are the first and I want this to be special. If you don't like it, you'll never have to do it again. Do you trust me?" He reached out and stroked my cheek. His eyes were such a calming green, entrancing in their beautiful glimmer.

"Yes, of course." And it was true; I would have followed him into the depths of hell.

He grinned and made busy preparing the drug. I watched him as he gracefully melted the black, sticky substance until it became a shimmering liquid. Taking the needle, he drew the liquid deep within, his teeth nipping his lip as he worked. He gently wrapped a cloth around my bicep and tied it tightly. Gasping at the slight pain of his force, I started to fidget. I had never done anything like this in my whole life and I couldn't help but worry even more. Something deep within screamed at me to turn this down and walk the other way. Peter leaned forward and placed a warm, soft kiss on my arm. His lips followed the curve of my shoulder and up the gully of my neck. I shuddered as his teeth nipped a small space under my ear. He hovered there and smiled.

"It will only hurt for a second, but I promise to kiss it all better." He whispered into my ear. "Trust me, my Cassie woo."

I chuckled at his childish sobriquet. I gazed into his eyes, searching for any kind of sign that would make me question his trust. I did not find it and in resignation, I nodded for him to continue. His hand cupped my arm just above the elbow. He held it tight within his grasp, causing my arm to lock, revealing the virgin skin. My heart raced against my rib cage as Peter lowered the needle down to rest on the sensitive skin. I bit my lip hard as the breath held in came rushing out and back in. He looked up at me, and counted to three. One...two... I felt the sting of the needle plunge into my vein but almost instantly I felt this most wonderful rush throughout my body. My head fell down as my wavy, blonde hair teased the small of my back. All the senses came alive at once- the sound of the trees outside, the beautiful curve of the failing ceiling, the feel of Peters fingertips traveling down my leg and the copper taste of blood dancing in my mouth. These feelings were as intense as a tsunami crashing all over me, every wave of my pulse and rise of my breathing enhanced tenfold by the beauty of the substance coursing my body.

Peter grabbed my face between his strong hands and crushed my mouth into his. We made love all night and after each finish he would inject me with more of that drug until I could hardly lift my head off the ground. Staring at each other in utter exhaustion, he reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. "I love you..." He exhaled out into the ash hued room...

"Cassie- I think that's enough for today..." Dr. Bradley interrupted. "I want you to come back next week. I feel this was a fairly good session. When you go back, I want you to work on these exercises." She handed me a few leafs of paper.

"Thanks." I snatched the papers out of her hands and hastily made for the door. That was all I could take before my soul imploded.

As I walked down the front steps of the office, I lit up a cigarette and drew in deep. The relinquishing breath came slow and unsteady. Steeling myself, I took another puff and started down the sidewalk to towards the opera house. I had a challenge to complete that night and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to show how brave I could be. 


	2. Chapter 2 - Erik, you fool

Hello my fellow fan fiction readers,

I had completely forgotten to include an intro in my first chapter, which for that I heavily apologize. This is a modern day twist of the original storyline. The chapters alternate perspective between Erik and Cassarah.

You may notice not ALL of the characters come into play – and some may have been renamed for the sake of the story. I do not own these characters and the credit goes to they who originally created them. I do however; own the original character Cassarah as well as her life story.

I truly hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Any criticism or praise is welcomed so please feel free to drop a note or two.

Thank you for your interest,

Jenny Dear

And- without further ado –

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Chapter 2

Erik- You Fool.

I saw her there, quietly standing and listening to the careful instructions of the choir director. Her face was pristine, the color of the rising moon on a warm summer eve. Her hair flowed down past her shoulders to rest lazily below her chest. She walked with an air of grace not seen in this generation as if she was transported from the days of propriety. My eyes were transfixed by the soft movement of her steps to the front of the stage. She cast her eyes down as if ashamed of herself. How I longed to lift her face from the floor, how my hands trembled at the thought of her hair entwined between my fingers.

The director beckoned her to stand tall and begin the aria of the first act, a slow melody made to entice the audience to attention. There was a moment of hesitation before she opened her mouth and eased the first few notes out into the empty theater. My hands gripped the lapels of my vest, the sound so pure it could make the devil himself fall to the floor and reach for the heavens. She was the shining light in my realm of utter darkness. I watched, silently and unseen high in the crevices of the theater ceiling. For the last four years I've watched this woman transform from a shy choir singer, to a leading lady of song. Her instructors were well advised by me in private. I wanted to give her the world and yet I was too afraid to show myself to her. I've shunned myself from the outside, hiding myself away in the dark. I was a monster in every aspect of the word, the boogeyman of music.

As the song continued, her body began to sway with the tremendous power of the melody unleashing in the concert hall. I began to sway in my solitude, dreaming of being able to sing with her. As the music climaxed, she flung her hands up to the ceiling and for a fleeting moment, I thought she was gesturing to me. I stood up, my heart beating out of my chest and leaned forward to reach towards her. The rafter groaned at the weight of my body, sending an audible crack emanating throughout the theater. The music stopped and the choir below began to shriek and buzz.

"Please! Everyone calm down. It was probably just a worker." He said, trying to regroup his company away from the disruption. "Excuse me! Excuse-"

"It's the infamous opera ghost." One of the pupils had exclaimed.

"I don't want to be here anymore! Can we move somewhere else?" Another one said.

A few of them gathered their things and made for the left stage exit. "Where do you think you're going? Rehearsal isn't finished!" The director hastily exclaimed to the company once more.

It was no use. More began to follow the others, too spooked to even listen to the director. Kristina wrung her hands tightly together and stalked toward her maestro. Her eyes were glued to the floor, a worried expression painted on her face.

"Monsieur, may I have a word?" She asked quietly. I clung to ever word she spoke like a junky to his chosen drug.

The instructor ran a hand through his thinning hair. Irritation was plainly written across his face at the sudden interruption of his rehearsal. "Yes - of course, Kristina."

"Maybe I shouldn't be the lead for this production. It's as if every time I try to sing, something happens to stop me. Maybe it's an omen?" My heart skipped a beat.

He chuckled. "Don't be so silly. You are the perfect fit for the role. With a little more practice, if God willing, you'll be ready my dear. Come back here tomorrow after rehearsal and we will go over your songs more in depth. Go home for now...as it seems rehearsals are over." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

She smiled and made her way to the exit. I jumped up and climbed down a hidden stairwell to the first floor hallways. Bearing a left, I followed a long corridor, listening intently for her to come down. After a brief moment of silence, she was there. I heard her softly humming to herself the beautiful melody from the production rehearsal. I smiled, and followed her adjacently through the walls. My fingers trailed across the cement divots, wishing I could just reach through as if I were the actual ghost people believed I was.

She stopped for a moment to say goodnight to a fellow choir member, wrapped her jacket tighter around her slender frame and exited out the south side door. I had to see her once more before I travelled back down to my dungeon for the night.

Slipping through a hidden archway, I opened a stone door that lead out to the back of the opera house, and cloaked under the umbrella of night, I set off to silently follow behind my obsession. She walked alone, clutching her arms tight around her chest, as if to ward off evil spirits. I stalked between the shadows, avoiding the moonlight as if the mere touch would burn me. Wrapped up in my own deep thoughts, my foot hit a stone and sent it skidding across the street. Kristina stopped instantly, and timidly looked behind her. I slid in between an alleyway just in time to miss her searching gaze. That was too close!

'Erik, you fool!'

Once I was certain she started walking again, I began my quest to follow her through the empty streets of Paris. There wasn't a soul in sight, except for a passing car, or a stranger walking their little pets. She turned down a street and I rushed forward to keep up with her. No one noticed the man in a mask, wearing a long black trench coat slipping through the alleyways and neighborhoods of the city. It didn't matter to me either way; I just wanted more time with my lovely protégé. She brought so much joy to the desolate isolation of my world.

She climbed the steps to her apartment and slipped through the front door without a second glance. The tree outside the apartment complex stood large and sturdy. I climbed the limbs of the foliage with ease until I was level with her floor. My Kristina- so pure and innocent. She deserved to live a life of wealth and fame. Not sleep in squalor like the rest of this town. Suddenly, a bright, menacing light shone through one of the apartment windows. It was her, in nothing but a towel.

Her hair was wrapped up into a tousled bun, tendrils freely falling away and swaying in her fluid movements. Her elegant fingers twisted the knobs on the tub as the water gushed out of the faucet. Turning to face my direction, she let go of the towel. My fingers dug into the tree branch as I watched the towel fall and crumble to her feet. She was utterly naked in front of me and even though the shame of my prying eyes flooded my cheeks, I couldn't bear to look away. Her body was like that of a sculpted masterpiece. Her collar bones were like sensual preludes to the dip between the valleys of her bosom. Her waist was cinched but curved out wide at the rise of her hips. Blood surged to my loins as I lowered my gaze to the most private of body parts. I knew I was spying in on a very private moment, and shamed tickled my stomach. The wind began to pick up, caressing my flushed skin.

"Erik, you fool, you disgusting deviant. Is this what you have been forced to?'

My head finally hung low in disgrace. When I had the courage to look back up, Kristina had already lowered herself into the bath. Her delicate head rested against the porcelain as the loose strands of hair dangled far down, almost touching the bathroom floor. Then, she began to sing a melody I had never heard before. It was like an angel had begun to sing, and I adjusted my weight on the tree branch to have a better listen. She began her crescendo as my heart followed suit, her song lifting my soul above into the heavens. Unable to control it, I began to softly sing back to her. Startled, she shot forward causing the water to slosh over onto the floor. After a few moments of silence, she relaxed back into the water.

"Kristina..." I whispered into the cool night air. Her eyes shot open, and panic overtook her beautiful expression.

Without warning she climbed out of the tub, grabbed her towel and raced out of the bathroom. My heart sunk deep into my chest. I had frightened her. My careless exclamation to her had scuttled her away from me once more. The longing in my heart vibrated through my entire core. Melting down against the tree trunk, I sat and thought hard about the idea beginning to form in my head.

She was a young, naive, gullible woman who was in need of someone to guide her. She needed a leader, a supporter, a ghost, or lover to pull her out of this depression. Perhaps that could be me? Maybe I could be her God of Music, Angel of song? I could make her voice golden and her soul set free.

'Erik, you pathetic fool...look at you. You are nothing but a ghoul... The devil incarnate. What would she ever want with you...?"

Anger welled up in my chest and caused my stomach to tighten. The voice in my head was right. I was nothing but a pathetic ghoul, cursed to walk the streets of Paris alone and in the dark. It had been months since I'd seen the sun and felt the heat of its rays on my face. Casting a fleeting glance back to the dark bathroom window, I resigned to my reality and began to climb the tree back down to the ground.

When I returned to my home below the opera house, I felt uneasy. The feeling from before rose beneath my insides, pushing until I felt ready to explode. I was sick of this life, this complete isolation. For 20 years I had lived this facade of a life and it was beginning to wear thin. My mind began to dawdle on everything I had longed for in the past two decades and nothing could compare to the crushing feelings of love I had for a woman who didn't even knew I existed. What was the point of even trying to pretend I could outlive this torturous sentence here, a hundred feet below ground? I was nothing more than a sewer rat, hiding away from the common people of life outside.

The sorrow was so overwhelming I had to choke back the tears that threatened at every breath. Craving for the release, I collapsed at the grand piano next to my bed. My fingers poised themselves over the keys and mindlessly began to play an unknown melody. The song started out slow, the rhythm of the music casting me away. My thoughts drifted to Kristina; the sound of her voice, the shape of her mouth and the curve of her naked hips. My hands moved faster and more feverishly as the feelings of hate and rage boiled over until I slammed my hands down on the ivory. I grabbed the cat shaped bobble on top of the mantle and threw it across the room, its existence ending in a crash of a dozen, little pieces. I strewed my musical scores and grabbed my completed works off the music stand next to the piano. I went towards the small wood burning furnace in the sitting room. Throwing them into the metal tomb, I lit them with the flame of a lingering candle.

I sunk to my knees and began to cry uncontrollably. My life was doomed to this prison away from the entire world and the beauty from above. The tears slid heavily between my mask and the tormented and disfigured skin that lay hidden beneath. This face that a mother could hardly look at, that everyone else reviled with their cruel, biting words.

"She will never love you...she shies away from every contact you have with her. Why even give yourself the hope? Put you out of this misery...stop the pain."

Standing aimlessly, I strolled over to the bookshelves and opened a wooden case with brass fixtures adorned on it. Inside laid a gleaming six shooter. It teased and sneered at me as if to call my bluff. I took out the metal weapon and threw the weight of my decision between my hands. What was even the argument? What was my purpose for living?

I trudged back to my bedroom and caressed my piano and my violin once more before placing the barrel of the 44-40 against my temple. The metal was cool and almost refreshing. I choked out a few more sobs as my finger began to pull back on the trigger.

All of a sudden an alarm set more than two centuries ago sounded off in the foyer. Clenching the gun tightly in my hand, I hesitated for a few more seconds. Curiosity got the best of me and I let the gun sullenly fall down to the Persian rug below.

'Who dares to enter MY halls and MY corridors? They will learn to leave me alone.' I growled.

As I walked out of the bedroom to grab my coat and hat, I looked back once more to the pistol lying pristinely on the ground. 'One day we shall meet again my violent friend, and you will be the end of this sorrow and desolation. Believe you me.'

I opened the door to the underground apartment and stalked off toward the upper labyrinths of the opera bowels. It had been years since anyone had dared to brave the black halls of my domain. There had been so many rumors of my existence that it caused for a natural repellent. Still, every once in a while someone would test their bravery only to be met with my sinister presence. It was curious to me that people still tried.

On the contrary, there was exhilaration to it. I climbed through hallway after hallway, following the now silent alarm to the west wing where an old trapdoor was unveiled when the last renovation was almost complete. Right before me, I could see two figures slowly creeping forward, their breaths rushing out in short bursts of excitement. The vague scent of honeysuckles and sweat permeated the air and tickled the tip of my nose. I held my ground and waited. A young man, hesitant in his steps trailed another, smaller frame. Their hands were wound together in a gripping vice. So, they came to get a glimpse of the opera ghost, the monster that dwelled beneath them. I let my footing become louder before them and at once they halted their advance.

"Did you hear something?" The man quivered.

"No. Are you getting scared!? This was your challenge, if you back out now, you forfeit." She boldly told him.

"I'm-" he said. I made another step forward, just shy of a few steps from the girl attempting to pull her accomplice along. "Wait..."

"Go back..." I whispered in a ghostly voice.

They both froze in fear. The man broke from the girls grasp and slowly began to back up.

"Alex..." Her voice only wavered for a moment but her body stood still in fright. I could almost hear her pulse climbing with every passing moment. "Do you..."

"Cass, it's the ghost!" He yelled, turning on his heel and dashing back toward the way they both came.

I took another step forward, just shy of the light aimed sloppily at the ground. The hand which held the flashlight shook violently and she caught sight of me. At this point, I could make out her features. She couldn't have been more than 27 years of age and very beautiful. Her facial features were plain on their own, but her eyes and her full lips were very attractive. Her hair was long, falling down below her shoulders, only resting right above her chest. It was as wavy as a storm stricken sea, wild and flowing. I could see the fear frozen in her eyes and yet there was something else there. Amusement? Curiosity even?

"It's a ghost...turn back the way you had come. This is not your domain." I ethereally said to the woman staring at me.

"Hardly." She whispered. Her eyes searched mine, fascination born with every passing second. Before I could say another word, she twirled around and ran back up to the world above.

A breath came rushing out into the empty darkness. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath. She didn't scream, or cry? She must have seen me! I turned around quickly and marched back down the sloped corridor. There was something about that woman I could not comprehend. She didn't flee, but merely listened to my command. This didn't make any sense.

I returned back to the underground apartment and paced. I paced from one room to the next in deep meditation at the sudden spike of interaction. The episode with Kristina was pure lunacy on my part, but the encounter with this woman was terrifying. And I didn't frighten easily. She had seen me...what was I to do? Find her and kill her? Hide out for weeks until things died down? What if she became curious again and ventured down here once more? Well, if it came to that I'd just have to strangle the little vixen.

Collapsing in the armchair in front of the wood burning furnace, I cradled my head in my palm. What a peculiar night this turned out to be. First, the moment with Kristina and now this encounter with a curious little ballet rat. I will have to make sure her curiosity is staved for good. I will have to intrude on her and cause her to keep silent. She was a brave one, I could tell by the way her eyes challenged me. Just how brave she was, we would most certainly find out.

Exhaustion swept over me as I watched the flames eat and consume the remaining pages of my manuscripts. I had managed to wander the days away with just a few short intervals of restless slumber. My eyes softly began to flutter and I gave way to the heaviness of sleep.

I could still imagine Kristina's naked form clearly in my mind's eye. Her allure was nothing I had ever experienced before and the way her innocence personified itself through her music. She made me feel alive; she cast light on all the darkness on my soul until there was nothing left but beauty. I must devise some form of plan to bring her to me. She was my way out of this hell. She was my saving grace.


	3. Chapter 3 - Nothing But a Man

Good Afternoon my Dearies (for those of you who have read this far),

I appreciate the views and I hope my writing style and character analysis are to your liking. This chapter is a little shorter than the last two and we are back in the mind of the beautiful Cassarah.

Enjoy!

XxxXxxX

Chapter 3- Nothing but a Man

What the hell was that!? That was not a ghost or a spirit. Ghosts are transparent. This was solid, tall and menacing. This was nothing but a man. I couldn't tell what was more terrifying, ghost or living being? It was strange; he could have passed as a person from the 1800s. His attire resembled that of a gentleman in high propriety from that century, with the vested suit and small top hat. The only thing that seriously threw off his moniker was the mask he wore on his face. As if chiseled out of porcelain, it complimented his bare side perfectly. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, white in comparison to the rest of the surroundings. They were as wide as mine in utter shock.

I stumbled out of the caverns and into the bright lights of the hallway. My lungs burned as my chest heaved to collect as much air as it could. I lifted my head and searched for Alex. He was long gone. That bastard! Crawling to the adjacent wall, I collected myself and wrapped my arms around my legs in a protective embrace. The burn in my chest was still present and tears welled within my eyes, blurring my vision even more. That was not what I was expecting to happen. This was supposed to be a silly game! It wasn't supposed to actually cause any kind of discovery. Alex thought that was a ghost, yet I begged to differ. I saw him...yes him! I looked right into the eyes of a man.

A shudder vibrated throughout my body. I needed to get out of there. I climbed up and began quickly towards the exit. Instinctively I reached for my pack of cigarettes and shoved the stick into my mouth. With trembling hands, I let the flame encircle the end of the cigarette and drew in deep. I watched as the smoke danced out into the cool, autumn air. The gust teased my hair and flipped it back behind my face. I needed to go home; I needed to get away from his place.

The wind carried me down the street away from the opera house as the moon lit the way toward the apartment. My thoughts raced around the scene of the man in the mask. What if he was a serial killer? What if he was a rapist, or peeping Tom? I shuddered again at all the possibilities this MAN could be. Should I tell someone? Who would believe me anyways? And how would I even begin to explain what I saw, or how I happened upon it?

The stroll home was quick yet I couldn't help glancing behind me every few steps. Each passing tree became more and more menacing as their branches bent and reached out for me. My steps quickened, the images of my imagination beginning to send me into a panic. Every so often a car would pass and throw ghoulish shadows onto the brick walls of the duplexes lining the streets. I hugged myself tighter and pressed on, knowing the apartment complex was only a street away.

Kristina was sitting in the living room, completely engrossed by a thick, branded book resting in her hands. When she heard the door slam shut, she jumped and dropped the book onto her lap. I must have looked like a mess because she instantly became worried.

"What happened?" She put the book onto the glass coffee table and came over to where I stood unmoving. "Cass, you alright?"

"Yeah...I just...we..." I stammered. I didn't know what to say.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Was it your appointment?" She asked, gently leading me towards the couch. I swung my backpack off and laid it down onto the table. We both plopped down, facing each other.

"It wasn't the appointment. I was with Alex at the opera house...we dared each other to go down to the cellars…I think we ran into a ghost..." I said worrying my lip. I couldn't decide if I wanted to confide in her or not. I shook my head as if to answer myself. "How were rehearsals?"

She frowned. "Cut short. We were interrupted by a disturbance-The opera ghost...I'm beginning to believe this thing is real." She said haphazardly.

"Alex ran away." A smile turned the corners of my mouth. "So I guess I won that challenge in the end."

I stood and walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine. I walked back over to the hearth and gazed into the smoldering embers left from an earlier fire. The face of the man in a mask was haunting my thoughts. I just couldn't make any sense of it. Why would anyone live in the basement of the Paris opera house!? I'm sure it was dirty and cold down there. The old corridors gave that away. Rumors had it there was an underground lake and even a house nestled on the other side of the shore. I never really believed in any of those stories but now that I came face to face with this thing, anything could be possible. I fingered the neck of the glass absently unable to shake the thoughts.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're usually never this quiet." Kristina asked, picking up her book once more.

"I'm fine...just an exhausting day."

I put the glass on the table, grabbed my backpack and headed for my room. Flipping the light on, I sat down on my bed and sighed. I wondered if Alex was alright. He did leave in a huge hurry, and he didn't even wait for me to get out of the trapdoor. I could have been taken and swallowed by the darkness and he would have never known.

Pulling out my phone, I sent a text to him asking if he was alright. If he responded, then I would chew his ass out for leaving me behind. Reclining back onto my bed, I stretched my legs and began to swing them into the air, the anticipation of his response growing thick within my chest. The bed vibrated with his response. I snatched it up and opened the screen.

'Yeah I'm fine. I couldn't believe it. That scared the shit out of me.'

Fury enveloped my mind and I punched out a response.

'You selfish asshole! You left me alone. Anything could have happened to me!'

He instantly replied- 'sorry Cass. I panicked'.

I shut the phone and threw it onto my night stand. It was almost midnight and I needed to get to sleep. I had another grueling day of rehearsal tomorrow and I couldn't be late. I laid there in the dark for what felt like long, tedious hours. Sleep wouldn't come and at that point I knew it was pointless to lay there. Getting up, I grabbed the almost empty pack of smokes and walked out to the small balcony off of the living room.

I leaned against the rough brick as it scraped gently against my bare shoulders. I nursed the cigarette, trying to free the thoughts that warded off my slumber. The tree that guarded our apartment rustled and a muffled groan of a branch echoed in the silent night. I directed my attention to the sound. How bizarre that was since there wasn't even a breeze. Worrying my lip between my teeth, I flicked the stub over the edge of the balcony and slipped back inside. I lay in bed, finally defeated after the long day. I pulled the covers closer to my chin and began to drift off into a restless sleep.

X

"5, 6, 7, 8..." Frank counted out the beat as the ballet company rehearsed the same dance we had learned the other day. I tried to sneak in behind the instructor but without even turning around from his scrutiny he regarded me. "Ms. Cassarah. How nice of you to join us."

"Frank, I'm so sorry! My alarm-"

"I don't want to hear it. You're wasting my time. Get out of my rehearsal. You can come back later tonight on your own time."

"Fuck." I whispered. I could feel everyone's gaze on our argument, and my eyes cast down in embarrassment.

I sulked out into the hallway. I couldn't help but feel as if someone was watching me from the paintings and doorways lining the corridor. The crown molding was elegantly embroidered around the walls, as the doorways were hugged with gold trim. This place had become a second home to me and I couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

I sat outside the rehearsal room, listening to the calming music echo throughout the wing. The anticipation of my discovery from the night before was bursting out at the seams. I had to tell Alex. He had to know that what we encountered last night was not an apparition, but a flesh and blood man.

The dancers began to file out as Frank dismissed the rehearsal. Alex was the last one out, chatting intently with another female dancer. He frowned as soon as he saw me, the look of irritation and anger portrayed on my face.

I raised my eyebrows at him. "We need to talk."

"Look, if it's about last night, I know, I forfeite-"

"It's not about that..." I interrupted. "I mean it is, but I have to tell you something. Come on, let's go outside. I have a feeling these walls can hear."

His look of confusion was fleeting but we followed each other silently out of the south side exit. The sun shone brightly over the small courtyard in front of the Rue Scribe. All the trees were glimmering in a vast collection of fall coloring of orange, brown, yellow and red. It was as if we were in a living painting. I walked over to the nearest tree, leaned against it and lit up a cigarette. Alex followed suit, hanging off of the branch closest to me.

"Alex, what we encountered last night...that ghost...it wasn't..." I stammered, unable to find the words to express. "It wasn't..."

"I know what I saw Cassie. You can't tell me you didn't see it either." He leaned closer to me.

"I saw it alright. But Alex...it's not a ghost... It's..." I took a drag off of the cigarette between my fingers. "It was a man, Alex. A real, live person." The exhaled smoke swirled around us like an eerie fog on a desolate lake.

He burst out in an exasperated laugh. When he looked at me, his merry died away. "You serious?"

"Dead serious. I saw his face, well half of it anyway. He wears this mask, and clothes that look like someone from the 1800's wears. Alex, I looked right into his eyes...he was human."

"Do you think he lives down there? I wonder what he did to be hiding down there."

"I don't know. I know none of it can be good. Do you think I should tell someone?"

"I think it might be worth a shot...you never know. Maybe there is a reward for him."

"Alex, you coming or what?" One of the male dancers called from the entrance.

"I have to find out more...maybe I could figure out why he's here...?" I said more to myself than to anyone in particular.

"Cass, I've got to go... Be careful." He kissed my forehead and scampered off to meet his friend. Long after my cigarette was burnt out, I sat there still. I just couldn't figure this whole thing out. Perhaps only time would tell.

Later that night, after the rest of the dancing population had gone home, I was in the rehearsal room going over what I had missed from the workshop. With each bend, I felt the stress of the world melt away. Each twirl offered an escape from the daily anxiety of my past transgressions. My mind began to settle and think nothing about the day's events. Instead I felt the passion burn within me. The rush of the music washed away my worries. My body swayed with the rhythm as my head sagged in the ecstasy of the dance moves. Nothing could break me of this trance; nothing could draw me away from this moment. My feet carried themselves, pushed up into elegant points as I floated along the floor. I spun into a frenzied vortex, letting my legs carry me across into a pirouette. I dipped low, caressing the floor with my fingertips. When the music had ended, I fell to the floor panting and breathless. I finished my practice with a few stretches and changed out of my ballet shoes. Gathering my things into my backpack, I quietly closed the rehearsal room door. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a figure standing at the opposite end of the hallway. Fear crept up my throat as my hands became clammy and cold. I slowly turned my head towards the end of the hall.

Like a flash of lightning it was gone. Gathering up all the courage I could muster, I ran to the end of the hall, where I caught a glimpse of a black jacket curling around another corridor. I raced after it as fast as I could go. The faint echoes of footsteps descended down the hall just before I was about to turn down. To my dismay, it was a dead end. How could it possibly be?

'You're losing it Cassie.' The voice inside my head chided. 'You're really losing it.'

I let out a long sigh and turned back toward the exit. My steps were quickened with fear of an unknown specter watching me intently. As I rounded another corner, I saw as plain as day, the figure of a man standing tall and still. He had a vested suit on, adorned with lavish embellishments, along with a fedora and a stark white mask. He had very masculine facial features. His eyes were dark, and set deep within his face. His jawline was pronounced and locked, making him appear to be made out of marble. The most haunting aspect was his lips, as they were coiled into a devilish smirk. I dropped my bag instinctively.

My hands balled into tight fists as I collected all the courage I could. "I...I know who you are."

"Is that so?" He sung out in a soft tenor voice. It was almost hypnotic in the way the syllables were effortlessly spoken. "Pray tell, who am I?"

This sound was like nothing my ears had ever comprehended before. It caused my courage to falter for a moment.

"Well I know you aren't a ghost..." I bit my lip to stave the tremble that took over. "I saw you."

"Are you so sure of such things?" He cocked his head to one side as a dark chuckle protruded deep from his throat.

The figure began to walk briskly toward me. I closed my eyes tight and started to hyperventilate. This can't be real...this isn't real!

I opened my eyes once again. He was gone, evaporated out of thin air. I searched each of the rooms and corners of the hallway but he was indeed gone. Feeling as if I was about to faint, I left the opera house.

This little discovery has now turned into a nightmare, terrifyingly haunting. The trip home was swift and without hesitation. I returned to a dark, empty apartment. The only light were the embers remaining from a dying fire and the smell of burning leaves filled the apartment. Not even Kristina's bedroom light was on. I knocked on her door, but she didn't answer. After a few more attempts, I opened it. It was indeed empty.

'That's strange. Where is she? She hardly ever goes out.'

Resigning to her absence, I went to my room and melted into my bed. The exhaustion swept over me like a heavy comforter. Sleep would claim me tonight. I had no doubt about that. My dreams were no longer filled with flashbacks of my drug using days, but instead were occupied with a man in a mask. He stalked me in my sleep, his eyes burning deep like hot coals to the core of my soul.

I woke with a jerk, the sun just barely touching the tips of the buildings outside my bedroom window. I yawned deeply, stretched my stiff arms and rose from the bedding. All at once, the memories of the night before came flooding back to me. My fingers began to circle the soft area around my temples. I rubbed the slumber away from my eyes and went out to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. It was eerily quiet in the apartment, with nothing but the sound of a crackling fire and a city outside awakening.

Kristina lay sprawled out on the couch, her head tucked away beneath her elbow. She must have had a late night with someone. I couldn't imagine her staying that late rehearsing. In fact, the whole two years I lived with her, she had never come home later than me. I'll have to ask her later after practice what trouble she may have gotten into. She was five years younger than me and her innocence spoke loudly to me. I almost felt like her older sister, I was ready to protect her from the harmful things life can present. She was so gullible, naïve and airheaded at times – it was a cause for laughter and sometimes great concern.

My eyes rolled at her sleeping form. I turned and walked back down the hallway to my bedroom. Our rehearsals began at noon, so I still had a few more hours of sleep to try and enjoy. Though if I'm not dreaming about overdose, I'm now envisioning masked men chasing me around. Usually, this wouldn't bother me so much, as I kind of liked masked men but seeing as this particular man carried a rope around, it made me very unnerved. I sunk back under the sheets and thought myself right into a calm, sweet slumber.


	4. Chapter 4 - The First Encounter

_Hello readers,_

 _This chapter came very easy to me up until the very end. I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to review if you enjoy it, or even if you hate it! Feedback helps me know how I'm doing and how your liking._

 _Without any more delay -_

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Chapter 4- The Encounter

A few hours earlier...

Like a shadow of the night, I made my way through the empty halls of the opera. I had been patrolling all day, brooding in my cowardice towards Kristina and my attempts at communication. How was I to go about it? I was a man dressed in black with his face hidden behind a piece of plastic. I couldn't think of one logical reason why anyone wouldn't shy away from the looks of me. The past has instilled a foreboding sense of prejudice within my conscience. As the day progressed into night, the halls grew quiet and dull. Even the routine cleaning crew was finishing up their work and had hung their smocks to dry for the next day.

Slipping past the south side dancing workshops, I was distracted by the sound of music and hushed steps. I squeezed between the drywall and looked through the two way mirrors. There inside was the girl from the other night, dancing alone. Her movements were graceful and sensual. I watched as she rose up onto the tips of her toes. The very essence of charm emanated from each twirl and each bend revealed more of her long, slender frame.

The music finished and she collapsed to the floor, emotionally drained from her release. I let out a shaky sigh, the music breaking whatever spells this vixen cast upon my senses. I carried on through the passage, climbed up through a doorway and snuck out of a tapestry hanging on the wall. There she stood, closing the rehearsal door silently. Her hair glistened in the light of the hallway, like the stars reflecting off the bobbing sea. Her eyes were the color of autumn trees and behind them I could sense a life time of pain.

She stiffened, staring at me out of the corner of her eye. I dashed down the hallway to the adjoining wing. I could hear her gaining on me. She followed me! The gall of this woman! She shall see just how tricky this ghost could be. I sped up and turned down a dead end to slip behind another hidden door. She rounded the corner and stopped in disbelief. I couldn't help but chuckle. The dumb look of her face was almost priceless. I cut through one of the dressing rooms and waited for her to return to the exit. I stood tall and menacing as she emerged back from the other wing. I smiled proudly as the color drained from her face. The entrancing rise of her panic stricken breath made my stomach flutter with confidence. She was beautiful to say the least, but lacked the pure innocence that Kristina held dear.

Her eyes bore deep within mine, as if she were trying to clench onto my soul. "I-I know who you are?"

"Is that so?" I calmly replied. I caught the all too familiar response to the articulation and natural inflection of my voice. "Pray tell, who am I?"

"Well, I know you aren't a ghost..." She bit her lip to try and still the tremor growing there. I couldn't help but watch with slight fascination. This was definitely a first in my memory that someone didn't retreat.

"Are you so sure of such things?" I questioned her. I strode towards her as her chest began to heave with unabated breath.

She closed her eyes and I took that moment to disappear through the wall once more. Even though I relished a good laugh, I had an agenda to follow. This silly game would have to be put to rest for now. Working my way around to the chorus wing, I could hear Kristina a few rooms over. She was lost in the solo piece the instructor had bestowed upon her. He had practiced with her earlier that day and she sounded perfect. After the instructor had finished, she asked him if he would mind if she stayed a while longer to rehearse her solo. He agreed and left to her here alone. I listened as she sung a few verses before becoming irritated. She had so much potential if she just knew how to grasp the music.

I stood outside the two way mirror and caught her raw candidness. She was alone, and very deep in concentration when I crept up from the cold, daft corridor. Instantly my heart was set aflame at the sound of her voice. It needed some work, but this was minuscule to the unbridled talent she already possessed.

Her voice faltered in her attempt to ascend into the higher range of the piece. In frustration she threw the music down to the floor and huffed into the armchair tucked away in the corner of the room. I couldn't help but giggle at her childish outburst. My amusement was quickly taken away when she dropped her head into her hands and began to cry silent tears.

My heart wretched as the wetness leaked between her fingers. I clutched my vest where my heart stuttered. Her head slowly lifted out of her hands and up toward the ceiling. Her face was flushed and swollen with her cries.

My hand pressed up against the glass with every fiber in my body wanting nothing more than to cradle her and hush the anguish away. I would do anything just to be able to feel her soft, supple skin glide under my touch.

Her quiet prayers pulled me from my daydream. "Please God. I haven't asked you for much in this life, but I need a miracle. This is all I have to give but it's not good enough." She clenched her fingers tightly together. "Give me a sign, show me the way!" She bowed her head down until her forehead brushed against her fisted hands. She sat like this for a while, unmoving and abated.

"Poor, sweet, child..." I purred out before I even knew what I was doing. She stilled. "Do not fear me...and please do not cry."

I could see her physically struggle to swallow. Her eyes were stretched wide with shock. "Wh-who is there?"

"It is I,"I hesitated for only a moment. "Your Angel of Music. You had prayed for a miracle. Well child, I am here."

"An angel?" She asked, searching the ceiling as if it would give away some kind of sure truth. "Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Angels aren't real!" Kristina's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"I am here, Kristina. Sent to you to fulfill your destiny. Your fate was decided long ago and I am here to help you see. I am here to help you sing and pursue anything in the musical realm. I will never steer you askew. I promise you." I did my very best to keep my voice light and airy. It almost had a cadence to it.

"I...I'm not sure." She stammered out, wringing her hands violently.

"Losing your parents at such a tender age was most unfair to you. But I have been given their blessing as well to help you in your musical pursuits."

"My parents...?" Tears began to well up once more. "It can't be."

"Kristina-"I breathed her name out in a holy tenor. "Sing with me. And I will prove to you I am an angel."

And so we did. The poor girl was so hesitant at first, but once she heard my voice I saw her shoulders release the tension and her hands eventually fall down to her side. I never imagined in my life that I would have the opportunity to sing with such a beautiful woman. My heart soared higher than any written note.

As we carried on into the early hours of the morning, I could see the dark, heavy circles forming under her beautiful blue eyes. She must be exhausted but she wasn't ready to give up yet. She leaned heavily against the music stand, going great lengths to continue our unearthly duet.

"That is enough for tonight. You must go and get some rest." I reluctantly said.

"No! I don't want you to go!" She pleaded with me, her face as sad as a withering rose.

"I shall come to you tomorrow night my child, after your music lessons with Monsieur Bellamy."

"How did you-?" She asked, a resemblance of fear creeping back into the creases of her face.

"I am an Angel. I see everything. Now go and rest. Goodnight my little protégé."

My heart thundered beneath my chest as she left through the south side exit. I could hardly believe it myself, but for the last three hours I had sung with her. Our voices entwined with one another's as if we were two lovers rolled up in bed sheets. I rested my head on the wooden doorframe right outside the exit. I had half a mind to follow her home just so I could take in as much of her as I humanly could. I reached out to her tonight with my voice as my only ally.

I practically flew down the layers of the opera house and barged into my plain, quaint living quarters. Humming a song to myself, I took off my hat and trench coat and placed them back onto the coat rack. Smoothing over my hair, I began to pace my apartment.

I could not believe my luck. How on earth could this have worked out any better? It was as if fate finally took pity on me. She had wished for me and dreamed of an angel of music to guide her. I could do exactly that without the dangers of her fearing my face or the secrets of my past.

Yet still, while we stood there singing together, I couldn't hold back the urge to reach out from behind the glass and touch her. My arms were encircled upon myself, but I wanted so badly to have them wrapped around her slender frame, cradling her away from all her fears. In time, she will learn of me, but for now I would have to resign to being just a heavenly voice.

A surge of inspiration jolted me out of my mindless tracing of rooms to the violin sitting patiently in my bedroom, waiting to be played. The mahogany felt comfortable in my grip, like an old, distant friend. Slipping the instrument under my chin, I began to string up a few notes. Before I knew it, I was lost in a hauntingly quiet melody. The soft pull of the bow against the strings sang out into a light chorus of quiet intonation. I played until my arms hurt, until my eyes were throbbing in utter exhaustion. Feeling my energy from everything that had happened dwindle down to just a flicker, I returned the instrument back to its holder next to the piano and dragged myself to bed. I lay down against the cold, velvet sheets and stared up at the black ceiling.

'Soon she will see me and know me. Soon I will be able to experience even for a brief moment in time what it feels like to be real.'

I closed my eyes and let the sweet feel of sleep take me away into the musical recesses of my mind. It was funny how even in my sleep I could hear music, soft and entrancing. Some of my best work was always hatched from a song I dreamt about. I began to dream of a powerful musical piece, one that excited the soul and unprovoked; the image of the dancing girl accompanied the rhythm.

X

The next evening I made my way back to the dressing room, this time with my violin in tow. It was time to up the ante. We had been practicing together with just our voices, a mystical A Capella of sorts. She had greatly excelled at the simpler lessons of breathing technique and posture just as I had suspected she would.

I began to play a soft melody as I strolled up the corridor towards the two way mirror. There she stood, waiting patiently for me to arrive. Half of her hair was pulled up and away from her face while the rest flowed wildly down her chest. I still longed to stroke it and lose my fingers in the beautiful sea of red and auburn strands.

She closed her eyes at the soft pull of the notes being played as her body relaxed against the music stand. I finished my piece and in the silence of the room I could hear her exhale deeply.

"Let us begin." She snapped her eyes opened and turned slightly more towards the mirror, her eyes searching but only finding her own reflection. "Repeat exactly after me...do re me fa so la ti dooooo."

After a moment's pause, she took a deep breath and mimicked my scale. "Do re me fa so la ti dooooo."

"Now diminuendo. Do re me fa so la ti dooooo."

She repeated the regression perfectly. Thus began our flow of melodies between us. We warmed up our voices for another thirty minutes or so before I raised the violin to rest under my chin once more.

"This time, my sweet Kristina, we sing with song. I want you to keep up with my playing. I will play the verse a few times and then I want you to follow. Do you understand?" I waited for her response with growing anticipation. I could feel my blood begin to boil beneath my skin as the moments ticked by.

"Yes maestro, I understand." She tensed, waiting for the music.

"Ah, ah. Relax your shoulders, my dear. This is music, not an execution. How is your lovely voice supposed to carry out when it is trapped within your chest? Shoulders back, arms down at your side and your chin leveled." I eyed her up once more, and pleased with her obedience I began my sensual melody with a smile.

Kristina stood there and listened. Her eyes slowly shut as the music began to caress her. The blood rushed into her cheeks causing her face to deepen in color. After the first count, I started to sing the first verse of her solo piece hauntingly quiet. This repeated twice more before I beckoned her to join. She took a deep breath in and the voice that came out didn't belong to the young aspiring Soprano but to a world class opera singer. I began to heighten the rhythm with our musical tango. We added another verse and began to exchange lines from the song. One line right after the other sang throughout the small dressing room. My fingers slid across the violin like a possessed fiddler, faster and frenzied. I began to bend with the music as the song reached its climax. Kristina simultaneously extended her arms out towards the mirror and bellowed out the last note.

After we finished the song, we were both out of breath. I turned my back to the mirror, concealing the surge of emotions flowing around me. Unable to help myself, I put the violin against my chin one last time. The music that emanated from the instrument was nothing short of sinful. I couldn't help it. I couldn't shake the raw, torturous arousal which took over me. Music had such a strange way of weaving in and out of my core, filling me with waves of emotions. I've never shared these musical melodies with anyone before and this mere duet was more than my soul could handle. I was only but a man after all.

Turning back around, I stole a glance up at Kristina. One hand fingered the tips of her hair while the other was caught between her teeth. I inhaled sharply as the bow skidded across the strings causing a very unnatural sound.

"That will be enough for tonight, my dear." I swallowed hard to clear away the lump forming in my throat.

"Yes master." She said with a husky voice.

This is why she continued to come back to me. Our lessons weren't always this intense, but the others weren't any less affective. She was beginning to understand the impact that music could have on the soul. It was beginning to take shape for her, just as I saw it. It has the ability to make you feel for every occasion. Music can mimic the player's mood but also help release it. This is what I began to teach my beautiful Kristina. Our nights ended in these instrumental waltzes and brought our hearts closer in every passing moment. She brought life back into me and a new purpose. She would be my life's work and I would give her the world if she asked it of me.

Xxx

A few days later.

Perched high above on the rafters of the stage ceiling, I looked down upon the rehearsals underway for the upcoming production. If I had more pull, I would have definitely chosen a different performance for this season, but lately I lost the heart to really care about the matters of the opera house. Every night for the past week I entertained my little artisan with lessons and private renditions of her choosing. She was hardly even afraid of the voice anymore. She would patiently wait for me in her dressing room, her hands tucked nervously away on her lap. I couldn't help but revel in this feeling of being enamored. In the hours we were together, I was able to forget about my past and the heavy burden that I carried on my face. It was utterly divine.

Gazing down once more, the choir director had called Kristina up to the front of the stage to rehearse her solo. She held her head high in gushing confidence and I couldn't help but swell with pride. I had to get a closer look. My fingers coiled around one of the old ropes hanging down next to me and holding tight, I swung down to the rafter below. My feet hit the beam silently like a pouncing feline. Not a soul even noticed.

Kristina turned her head slightly towards the director, and with a nod he began the beautiful aria. She faced the auditorium and began to sing the opening verse. Everyone on stage immediately stopped what they were doing and gaped at the young soprano. Her voice was nothing short of heavenly. My beautiful, lovely, Kristina! My hands wrapped around themselves and I drew them close to my pounding heart. How much had a week changed her? Gone was the timid, raspy voice of the adolescent from before. Here stood a young woman, whose voice could bring the most hardened man to tears. My perfect pupil. She has indeed been paying attention to her angel of music. As the last notes of the song came to an end, I gripped the wooden beam under me.

Oh, how I loved her so. I would do anything for this girl, even murder. And yet, I sat there cowering unbeknownst to the company watching below. I could never be enough for her, she would eventually become restless.

'What then, Erik? How will you explain to the poor child that you aren't this Angel? You are nothing but a man. You are nothing but Erik!' My jaw clenched in inhabited anger.

'Isn't what I have now enough!?' Shaking the thoughts away, I pulled myself back up to the top rafter, grabbed my hat and stalked off to the fly system. Flipping a lever up, I quickly grabbed hold of one of the ropes and rode it to the top of the flies where I snuck into a hidden door that lead into a deserted storage room. The scent of dust and mothballs hung heavy in the air. Old, rotting prop pieces and half eaten backdrops resided in the same resting place they had for decades. Slipping passed the clutter; I opened a concealed door behind a tall, wooden set piece and climbed down the ladder to the first floor corridors. The chorus members began to file out of the theater, their voices blending into one incomprehensible blurb.

Kristina walked out last, a smile stretching from ear to ear. She walked as if she were in a haze of dreams, completely unaware of the crowd around her. Her hair fell in troves around her shoulders, curving down her shoulder blades to graze the base of her back. She was elegant in every sense of the word.

"Kristina!" A voice shouted from within the crowd. I recognized that voice. "Kristina wait!"

I moved from my spot within the corridor to peer through one of the paintings hanging on the wall. Through the tiny peephole within the landscape, I could see the silhouette of the girl who I had caught in the corridors a week ago. Oh good grief!

"Cass!" She beckoned to her through the crowd. So now I had a name to give the little sneer.

"Where the hell have you been!? I haven't seen you in over a week!" The dancer exclaimed, worry creasing the brows on her face. When she finally reached Kristina, she lightly embraced her. After they let go, Kristina broke out into a smile. Her friend smirked and then placed a hand under her elbow and drew them closer to where I hid behind the painting. "Kris...have you met someone!?"

My heart skipped a beat. I pressed myself closer against the wall to get a better look and listen. "Well not exactly. I've been staying late to practice my lessons. Oh, it's been wonderful. You should have seen me out there today. I surprised even myself." She dropped her head and fingered the button on her shirt. "It's almost surreal."

"I was just worried when you didn't come home last night. That's all." She grinned weakly and gave Kristina a reassured squeeze on her delicate arm. "Let's have dinner tonight. We'll order Chinese, drink cheap wine and watch sappy love movies."

"Okay..." She bit her lip for a fleeting moment and wagged her head.

"I'll see you then." Her friend stalked off down the hallway.

"Where are going? Aren't your rehearsals over with?" Kristina called out to Cass.

"I have to speak with administration about a possible infestation." She said indignantly and turned down the corridor toward the administration wing.

Anger bubbled up inside my gut. So, she thought I was an infestation? I had been residing there far longer than she had been living! I spun around and began to make my way through the maze of corridors and trap doors towards the manager's offices. Fury enveloped me in an aura of blackness. The absolute gall of this woman! Never in my life had I been challenged like this before. For years I had been shunned away from the hustle of society for the benefit of their sakes. And now this little ninny wanted to try and sweep me out. I would make sure she would not succeed. I may have disappeared from this establishment's control, however I will not stand aside to let this troublemaker evict me from what is rightfully mine!

I came to a halt within the wall right outside of the administration's office before I disappeared up a hidden ladder. The crawl space was hardly fitting enough for me to creep between. Looking down between the fluorescent light fixtures and the ceiling, I could see the office assistants typing away on their electronic hardware. A brief, uncomfortable moment passed until the little snitch quietly entered the room. She stood awkwardly, picking at her fingers in nervousness. After no one turned to address her she walked up to the first desk.

'Let's see how brave you really are, you little witch.'

"Excuse me?" Cass interrupted. The office assistant peered over her glasses.

"How can I help you?" She asked her voice monotone.

"I need to speak with someone regarding an issue that I have." She bit her lip. The assistant didn't replay. "An issue regarding safety."

The assistant halted her typing and stared at Cass. "You have a safety issue? I see. Let me see if the managers are in or not." She picked up the phone and punched out a few buttons. "You can sit over there." The assistant pointed her pen at an empty chair against the wall.

"Thank you." She replied.

I dragged across the boards above the ceiling until I was right over the young dancer. She fidgeted in her seat and her teeth worked her bottom lip. I could tell even from the distance between us she was extremely nervous. For being so courageous the week before, it was almost a surprise to see her fear those two dimwits.

"Miss?" Cass looked up from her lap. "You can go back. They are in the room on the left. Please stop by my desk afterwards so that you can fill out a formal complaint."

Cass walked passed the two secretaries with her head held high. I could tell at this point she was trying to gather all the courage she had. Besides, how else was she going to explain to those two morons that a man was living in the basement of the opera? She will be shocked to find out that they already know of me.

I scaled the beams about ten feet to the right and positioned myself over the two managers in the conference room. This space had a recessed ceiling and it offered a little more breathing room than the administration lobby.

She walked in the conference room with the same air of confidence but I could see in those brown eyes of hers the slight panic at the sight of her employers. They gestured for her to sit down in one of the leather backed chairs and waited patiently for her to address them. When she did not speak, the managers took it upon themselves to break the proverbial ice.

"Good afternoon, Cassarah." Moncharmin greeted. "What seems to be troubling you?"

"Well...um..." She unceremoniously cleared her throat. "I would first like to say that what I'm about to tell you may sound absolutely ridiculous. But please bear with me."

"Okay, go on." Firmin gently pressed.

She took a deep breath before continuing her plight. "I believe there may be someone roaming your opera house basement." She practically blurted out.

"Oh." Firmin breathed.

The managers both looked aghast at one another. "Where did you see this man?" Moncharmin asked.

"Well...uh...in one of the hidden corridors leading down to the basement of the Opera. I was with a friend here late for rehearsal and we had both ventured down."

"You do realize this premise is closed after ten, right? You are also not permitted anywhere near the cellars."

"What did the man look like?" Firmin pressed on. She blushed slightly.

"Well...he was very tall and wore this period type of clothing. It was almost like a suit and vest outfit. He also wore a black trench coat and a mask that covered half his face. Um, strong, masculine facial features. Or, at least the features I could make out."

The manager's faces blanched. They both looked at each other and leaned in close so the girl couldn't hear their private exchange. I dipped my head lower to try and catch the snippet of conversation.

"...He's been quiet for ages. I thought we had a mutual understanding that if he kept the riff raff under control and stay away from the opera population, he could keep his residency..." Firmin chirped.

"Hmm. We'll have to speak with the head of security then." Moncharmin whispered.

They turned back to the girl staring quizzically at the pair. They both took a sip of water and then Firmin stood as Moncharmin began to rifle through a folder with paper work neatly tucked inside.

Sighing, Moncharmin regarded the girl with hooded eyes. "Cass, we've reviewed your case work from your psychologist and we have no evidence that we should discredit you on any bias. She writes nothing but good things in here. Things about the progress from your last overdose, your living situations, your score cards..."

'Overdose? Psychologist? There is more to this girl than I originally thought.'

I quieted the voice in my head to try and catch the last bit of their observation.

"We take pride in our rehabilitation program and wholeheartedly believe in our groups here…" Firmin boasted.

"Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you." Moncharmin interrupted. "You know, seeing things out of the corner of your eye, thinking chairs are ghostly figures…"

"No! This wasn't my imagination...this was a real, breathing, blinking human being." She said sternly. "I saw him with my own eyes. You don't believe me do you?" She asked, panic riding in her voice.

"Of course we-." Moncharmin said.

"There is a masked man running around the basement of your opera house, scaring people half to death and you want me to just forget it? If you aren't going to take me seriously, I can always go to the authorities."

"We will have security do a sweep of the premises to make sure there is nothing to worry about. I promise you, this establishment is very safe." Firmin added. His partner shot him a quick glare. "Please don't fret over it. I'm sure it was nothing."

"This is bullshit." Cass shouted and stood to leave.

"Please watch your tone." Moncharmin chided her. I couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions. This one was a fiery one.

"I came to you both in confidence, and as embarrassing as it was to admit, you sit there and shoot me down as if I'm telling you another ghost story. I've seen this man twice now and both times he wasn't very welcoming."

"I can assure you-"

"Miss please-"

And without another word she turned and left the two managers staring at her in disbelief. I could hear the secretaries groan in protest as the young dancer flew by them in blind rage.

After she left, the two sat back down heavily in the leather office chairs. Moncharmin gathered the papers from the folder and filed them neatly back in.

"What should we do, old friend?" Firmin looked at his partner who nursed his temples gingerly.

"Send out a security sweep. It will at least cover our asses and keep us from a law suit."

"And what of our agreement with him?" They both glanced around the room cautiously.

"He'd better hide away for a while. It seems he has his own adversary."

Sitting up, I let the scene replay in my head. This could be quite a dangerous situation. I knew I should have taken care of this little shrew the first time I encountered her. It appears though, she isn't as easily frightened away as the others were. Perhaps I will have to play on her terms. I must make myself very clear to this curious dancer that the man she speaks so darkly of is not someone to try and challenge. The lesson planned for tonight with my beloved would have to hold off. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

With irritation as my guiding step, I made my way back down to my apartment. I kicked the door open with a deafening crack and threw my hat and coat down onto the ground.

Stepping over the sheets of music scattered across my floor, I sat at the piano and sunk deep into a dark, entrancing melody. My fingers played hard against the ivory, every string of chords an attempt to wretch the overwhelming pull of anger dwelling and building inside. Birthing from this deep meditation, I knew what had to be done. And by God I had to risk it all to keep it all. I would have to approach her face to face.

My fingers pounded out a few more chords before I became lost in my plans. No one would stand in my way of getting what I wanted. And this Cass girl was standing directly between my path to Kristina.

'No more manners, Erik, no more silly games. This time, you must make it clear you are not a force to be reckoned with."


	5. Chapter 5 - By the Light of the Moon

Chapter 5 - By the Light of the Moon

I slammed the administration office door behind me, fuming with embarrassment and anger. This was the very reason why I didn't want to say anything in the first place. I could only imagine how stupid I sounded. To them I was only the psychopathic drug addict who they so kindly took under their wings.

'Fuck them.'

I raced through the halls, blindly walking passed others without regard. I was utterly lost as to what my next move should be. My only plan had failed miserably and if the managers of this very opera didn't believe me, then who else would? I could already imagine the look on Kristina's face if I tried to confide in her. She would just agree with what everyone else believed. A ghost.

The sun was beginning to set behind the Parisian skyline when I began my walk home. Cars zipped passed me with the smell of metal and exhaust along with pedestrians buried in their phones and newspapers. The wind picked up as the leaves whirled around the sidewalks. I glanced in each alleyway to make sure I wasn't being followed. I had a hunch that this man wouldn't venture outside during the daylight. He was condemned to stay a prisoner in the opera, just like the residual spirit everyone believed him to be.

I knew differently. I saw him plain as day twice now. I needed to clear my head before this whole mess drove me insane, or worse, break my sobriety. I had been doing so well with my sobriety and depression that I couldn't let this stupid incident ruin it all.

I trudged up the apartment steps and with a heavy sigh I entered. Kristina was in the kitchen finishing up some lingering dishes, humming a song contently to herself. It was obvious something had happened in the past week to lighten her mood. The very air around her felt electrified and to be honest I wasn't really in the mood to join her.

She turned from her chore at the sound of me entering and lightly blushed. She lined the last dish up on the rack and dried her hands.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked, a bit more harshly than I had intended. She didn't seem to notice.

"I've had a wonderful week, Cass. It's truly unbelievable." She smiled, balling up the dish towel and throwing it onto the counter.

"What happened? Did you finally meet someone?" I dropped my stuff down next to the door and set to unbuttoning my coat.

"Not really..." She bit her lip and then came around the counter to face me. "I've been taking private lessons."

"I already knew this." My eyes shot wide open. "Are you sleeping with Mr. Bellamy!?"

"Oh, God no!" Kristina shrieked. "No, something so much lovelier."

My brows furrowed. "Now I'm confused."

"I've been chosen, Cass!" She grabbed my hands and grinned at me. "I've been approached by an Angel. Oh, I know it sounds crazy, but I swear."

"Are you doing drugs?" I sincerely questioned her.

"No, not at all." She dropped my hands and started tidying up the kitchen. "The angel has taught me so much. At first I thought I was dreaming but after rehearsal today I'm positive it's all been real!"

My head spun and the dull pains of a migraine threatened my patience.

"It sounds like it..." I hesitated for a moment and let what she told me evaporate into the silence between us. We had been roommates for four years and she had been the closest friend I've ever had. Yet, I was truly nervous to confide in my newly found discovery. I bit my lip hard and decided to take the plunge. "Hey Kris, do you think I could talk to you about something?"

"Of course, you never have to ask." We both went to sit down on the couch. She squeezed my knee reassuringly as I began to fidget.

"This is going to sound absolutely insane but I don't know what else to do. Do you remember the night of my appointment, after Alex and I went exploring in the opera house?"

"Yeah. You thought you saw the ghost, right?"

"Yeah well I don't think it's a ghost. Kris, it's a man. He's a real, breathing person! I saw him twice and both times he was solid, and he spoke to me. He wasn't at all welcoming and in fact a little downright rude. And he wore this mask that covered most of his face." I outlined the boundaries where the mask had laid.

"A masked person? Living in the opera house?" Her eyes grew big with fright.

"Yes! The only thing I could think was that he was a murderer or rapist or someone hiding away from something. I confronted management about it. What a waste of time."

"What did they say!?"

"They told me to forget about it- mind my own business. I was to pretend like what I experienced never even happened."

"Are you sure it was a man? I mean, I know I get scared in that place when it's late and I'm all alone. The dark and the silence has its way of making you see things that aren't actually there."

"Kris..." I scorned her. "I swear to you, he was real! I could make out detailed features."

"Well what are the managers going to do? Anything?"

I rolled my eyes. "They said they were going to send out a security sweep to make sure nobody was hiding out. If they actually do it, I'll never know!"

"Hmm. Well perhaps it's best to just put it behind you for now."

"Just forget everything I saw?"

"Well there really isn't much else you can do...so..." She pursed her lips into a tight frown.

"You sound just like them and Alex. He didn't seem to really believe me either."

My head pounded with the now full on migraine. I rubbed my temples to try and alleviate the pressure. I had all the confession I could handle for one night. It was pointless to even try to convince her of this masked avenger.

"So, do you want me to order the Chinese and get the movie started?" Kristina grinned.

"I'm not feeling well. I think I'm going to go lay down."

I left without waiting for a reply. The darkness of the hallway was as relieving as a cool rag on my head. I yearned for the comfort of my bed.

Three more weeks until the start of dress rehearsals and all I could think about was these ridiculous string of events from the past week. How could one single person disrupt someone's life as much as this?

I lay my head gingerly on the cool fabric of the pillow. Reaching over, I flipped the lamp off and watched as the sun began to dip below the buildings outside my window. I was honestly lost in my plan to oust the basement dweller and I had no choice but to resign. There was no other option but to just regard him as a ghost. It seemed no one else really cared to worry about it but from my experiences, I've learned to never trust anyone. This man had the perfect advantage to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted without inhibition.

A few hours later I awoke to complete darkness. I was drenched in sweat yet I couldn't remember having a nightmare. I sat up and wiped the hair off my face. My neck was stiff from my nap and I still felt like shit from the day's disastrous outcome. Leaving my bed, I looked out into the empty living room. Kristina must have had another late night singing lesson.

I slipped across the hall into the bathroom and turned the shower head on. The water was hot and relaxing as it washed all the worry and anxiety far down the drain. Holding onto the curtain rod, I stood there and let the water cascade down my body comfortingly.

"What am I going to do!?" I asked myself.

'You're going to put this mess behind you and concentrate on your career. You didn't come this far to have it all flushed away.'

After I was done getting dressed, I lit a few candles in the living room and with a brush in tow; I curled up on the couch and worked the knots out of the blonde strands of hair. It wasn't always this beautiful. Back in the dark recesses of my life, there was a time I didn't have much hair. A drug induced psychotic break ended the long tresses of my mane. But 5 years later I've gained it all back.

The faint memory of that night unleashed the flood gates to more memories of Peter and my son. Gripping the brush tightly within my grasp, I threw it across the room out of unhindered rage. It bounced off the wall and hit a picture frame. The glass instantly shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. I cursed myself and went to pick up the glass shards.

Just as I was bending down in front of the destruction, a cold gust of air blasted behind me. The candles were instantly blown out and the hairs on my neck rose. I stood slowly where I was, too afraid to turn around. Cautiously, my head craned to catch a menacing silhouette of a figure standing in front of the open balcony doors, the moonlight shining brightly behind. Their billowing jacket whipped around their legs as the wind sailed in. I gasped in horror. It couldn't be?

The figure sauntered a few long steps forward. I backed up against the stationary desk, cornered between the wall and the fireplace.

I made to dash towards the kitchen but the shadow mirrored my steps, causing me to halt. My body began to tremor in fear as this specter crossed the living room. As it passed the open window, the moonbeams revealed a glimpse of a white mask. The blood rushed from my head as I felt my knees grow weak.

"How did you…?" I whispered. It was all I could manage, my notorious bravery finally failing me.

"I can be very resourceful, you know." His voice was strong and carried a hint of arrogance. "I've come to deliver a fair warning." He took another step forward. "If I were you, I would pay close attention."

Another step closed the distance between us. He was now level with the fireplace, a single step more and he could reach out and strangle me.

"A warning?" My hands began to search for the pair of scissors that sat in the pencil holder on the desk. "For what?"

"I know you tattled on me to those two imbeciles who run that theater. It's most worrisome to me. You see, I have my own agenda and now you are meddling with my affairs. Your misguided sense of responsibility has jeopardized everything I have been working toward. First, you invade _my_ space, and then you upheave _my_ living... I am not a patient man." His advance continued. My fingers finally hit the metal of the scissors and I clenched them tight within my sweaty palms.

"I didn't know what else to do. For all I know you could be a serial killer." I poised the scissors behind my back, waiting for him to lunge at me.

"For all you know, I very well could be. For all you know, that's why I'm here now." His smile was wicked, and my heart thumped loudly within my head. He took another step forward.

I swung the make shift dagger as hard as I could through the air towards the man's chest. His hands caught my wrists and he slammed me up against the wall. Pain splintered down my back as he squeezed tighter, causing the scissors to fall to the ground with a deadening pang.

We were now mere inches from each other, so close our breath was infused as one. The shadow kept my arms above my head as our chests pressed together. I felt the solid muscle beneath his vest with each heave of breath. It was a surprising revelation considering the man appeared extremely thin. The smell of burnt pine and something resembling wet cement teased my senses. I looked into his eyes as he stared hauntingly at me. They were the color of ice and fairly larger than I originally guessed. His right eye had speckles of black throughout them as if it reflected his soul. His gaze traveled from my eyes, down my face and rested for a second on my lips. My stomach tightened, fear resonating throughout my body as he still squeezed my wrists tight. I bit my lip, trying desperately to stop from crying out.

In a flash he released me and I sunk to the ground. I vaguely noticed him bending down to take the weapon away. As if nothing happened, he continued to turn about the room, twirling the scissors between his fingers. He stopped behind the couch and rested a single gloved hand on the cotton fabric, as if deep in thought.

"You will leave me alone. If I hear another word fly off your tongue, I will make sure it will be your last." He dropped the scissors onto the couch and leisurely walked back towards the balcony. "And you will leave Kristina alone. She is to have no part of this and you will keep your filthy little nose out of our affairs."

"Kristina?" Confusion invaded my senses.

"She is going to be the name on everyone's lips when I am through with her. But you are on the cusp of spoiling everything!" He shrieked. Then it dawned on me.

"Oh god...You're her angel of music!" The weight of this new discovery sent me sprawling to the floor again.

"I honestly figured a girl like you wouldn't believe in such nonsense. Remember what I said, Cassarah. You have no idea how quickly I could turn your world upside down. Do not trifle with me!" He pointed a slender finger at me.

"I swear to God if you hurt her I'll come after you myself!" I grabbed the stationary desk and the wall to scale myself back up to my feet. My left foot began to ache but I pushed this to the back of my mind.

He scoffed. "I would never even dream of it. However, the thought of you trying to come after me is quite amusing." The specters smile was riveting. Oddly enough, I couldn't look away from it. "Take this as a friendly gesture. This little game has gone on far enough. You are threatening my very freedom. If you value your pathetic little life, you will listen to what I've said. "

"How dare you thre-"

"Oh but I do." He shook his head slightly and backed up to the opened doors of the balcony. " You think you are brave, perhaps even courageous for the things you've been through in life. Fortunately for you, it doesn't even touch the kind of things I've endured," He turned away from me but paused on the landing. "By the way, you're staining your beautiful throw rug. Such a pity for a dancer to injure her foot..."

I looked down to find a pool of blood encircling my foot. On the edge of my heel I could see a large piece of glass jutting out of the torn flesh. I grabbed hold of the shard and yanked. My teeth sunk into the skin of my lip to try and stifle the cry of pain. When I looked back up, he was gone, disappearing under the light of the moon. I hobbled to the balcony and leaned over the edge of the rail. He had completely vanished. Not even the leaves on the ground below had been overturned.

"Damn."

I stalked back into the flat carefully as to not infuriate the seeping gash on the back of my heel. I set to make quick work of the broken mess on the floor, my hands still shaking from the unexpected encounter with the ghost. For reasons beyond my understanding, I couldn't get the sight of his eyes out of my mind. I had never seen any like them before. I sat back on my heels, wincing a little with the pressure upon my injured foot. What was wrong with me? I should be afraid for my life. I should be calling the authorities right now to report the incident. I already knew this was futile as they would never believe me and even if they did, what were they going to find? The man was as he said, resourceful.

I threw the bits in the trash and went to the bathroom to wrap my foot. The makeshift bandage would have to do and resigning I went back out into the living room. My mind raked with indecision. Every instinct in me screamed to warn my dear friend of the dangerous situation she was treading in. She needed to know that her miracle was actually a fake. He was clearly obsessed with her. She needed to know, but would she believe me?

Returning to the couch, I lit a cigarette to try to relax my nerves. It had been so long since I had felt real fear and to be honest, it was almost exhilarating. I've turned a cold shoulder to the rest of the world, and only let in very few people. After rehab I had promised myself to smother any real feelings for anyone. It was safe that way.

I flicked the spent butt into the fireplace and rolled over to stare at the back of the couch. I hardly believed sleep would come to me that night, but I had early morning rehearsals and Frank was already irritated with me for not being on time.

'He's sure going to be pissed when he notices the cut on my foot.'

I couldn't remember falling asleep but I dreamt of those haunting blue eyes all night, staring at me in the blanket of darkness.


	6. Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Guest

_My readers,_

 _I have dropped the rating from M to T for now because there won't be much mature content for a while. I'll make sure to warn you all if it comes to that point (which you know it will ;)). Here is the next chapter with a surprise guest._

 _I hope you enjoy,_

 _J.D._

The moonlight glared as bright as the sun as I wandered the streets of Paris. The diffused scent of smog and sewer radiated around the crevices of the city as I strolled through the deserted part of town. The anger and irritation within me festered. I couldn't persuade myself to go home just yet. The look of utter fear and surprise on the little dancers face when realization struck her who it was replayed over and over in my head. I had hoped it would be sufficient to snuff her growing interference.

As I rounded a corner and exited an alleyway, I caught a glimpse of a young couple sitting hand in hand on a bench beside the Seine River. They were in an exchange, their heads bent so their faces were only inches from each other. I watched with fascination as the man brushed his fingertips along the young girl's cheek. She bowed her head towards his caress and her eyes smiled widely up at him. He hesitated only for a moment, and then lowered his head and planted a soft kiss on the girl's mouth. They morphed into one shadow as their embraced form blocked out the light of the glistening moon.

My hand clutched the stone building beside me as I stood frozen, unable to look away from their private moment. The man then stood up, took the girls hand and began to lead her back towards the light and noise of the city. Once they were gone, I slipped over to the bench and stared at it. The wood was cracked and splintered, giving way to evidence of many other young lovers sharing intimacy together. Tearing my eyes away, I forced myself from the bench and took a flight of stairs down to the walkway beside the shore.

I strolled next to the water, my eyes fixated on the shivering reflection of the moon in the night sky. Its beauty was breathtaking and I couldn't help but feel lost in its sensual sway in the river. For so many years I had longed for someone to love and for the feeling to be returned. I had fantasizes about sharing moments like that with someone of my own. Alas, I had hardly shared a conversation with anyone without them shying away in terror.

A heavy sigh floated out into the dead of night. Resigning to my inner follies, I began to walk in the direction of the opera house. This whole situation had become greatly more complicated as the threat of detection and capture hovered over me. Why was everything in my life such a struggle? What kind of past life did I have that damned me to such a life now?

The only thing able to keep me from wasting away was Kristina. The past fortnight was the most exquisite experience of my life. Even my sweetest dreams never delivered such an overpowering sense of enamor.

Thereupon, I had remembered about my poor little devote waiting for me back in her dressing room. With a frenzied pace, I charged through the streets of the city, weaving in and out of the maze of alleyways before I entered the grate leading from the seine river. It had been ages since I used this entrance, and the metal groaned from the rust that collected there.

I dropped down silently, my feet sinking into the sandy shore. The air was cold and clammy with the distinct smell of unturned earth. An eerie glow emitted from the still water ahead but everything surrounding was pitch black.

Grabbing the oar off of the wall adjacent to the grate, I pushed the row boat into the lake, sending ripples across the deadened underground sea. My arms set the vessel asunder and I steered the boat towards the passageway that would lead me to Kristina's dressing room.

The hidden vestibule came into view just as the lake began to narrow towards my apartment. The lantern sat unused and abandoned off the hook on the wall. I freed it, and with a quick turn of the switch, I made my way up four layers of the opera house. I stopped short of the final incline to smooth over my hair and remove my cape. An action which seemed unnecessary as I was hidden behind the mirror and out of sight.

I slid back the wooden plank in front of the two way mirror and to my disappointment, was greeted with an empty room. On the night stand was the score for the last act of the musical and Kristina's jacket lay motionless on the armchair in the corner of the room. The lights were out and it was clearly deserted.

She must have left after becoming impatient with my absence. It was all because of that little ballet rat! She wasn't even here and she was causing mischief. I growled in frustration. Picking up my discarded cloak, I hastily made my way back down to the underground flat.

Upon entering, I hung my jacket and went to go warm the furnace in the galley. Once the coils were heated, I wandered to the main room and grabbed a bottle of bourbon out of the bookcase. The sitting room was utterly dark yet I could sense a presence lingering. I poured the sweet, savory liquor into the cup and slowly turned towards the suede armchair that sat neatly in the corner.

"Don't you know it is incredibly rude for you to enter someone's home uninvited, let alone when it's unattended?" I grumbled, taking a hefty swallow of the liquid, welcoming the burn cascading down my throat.

"Erik...what trouble are you getting yourself into now?" The accent revealed the foreign origins of the person sitting patiently in the armchair.

"I'm having a drink, Amir. I'm fairly certain there will be no trouble with that. Oh, look at me. Now I'm being rude. Could I offer you a drink?" I asked, refilling my now empty glass.

I bent and lit the oil lamp sitting beside the settee and the room flooded with an iridescent gleam. The man sat still, his legs crossed and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair with his fingers pressed against each other in a wide arch. His heavy cologne fumigated the air around us in a suffocating hold. He stared at me with narrowed eyes, searching for the answer he so desperately feared.

I shrugged. "I'll take that as a resounding no." I replaced the cap back on the bourdon, and in one swoop, downed the glass.

"Erik...don't play dumb. We all had an agreement. You leave them up there alone," He gestured towards the darkly painted ceiling. "In exchange for freedom and anonymity."

"I haven't done anything that would warrant a break in the treaty, I can assure you. Now, if you'd kindly leave my house so that I may drink in peace." I abandoned the glass and picked up the bottle. I made for my bedroom down the stairs. Setting the bourdon down on the mantle of the piano, I began unbuttoning my vest. Just as I was slipping the garment off my shoulders, the Persian came and stood at the archway of the door, his back leaning against the wood panel.

"What part of leave my house did you not comprehend?" I yelled, draping the black vest over the side of the wooden bed frame.

"What have you done to cause an uptake in security?" Amir gave me such a pitiful look that anger boiled over me. I took a few menacing steps towards the man.

"That is none of your concern, Daroga! If you can recall, you have no business in my affairs any more. And I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way. There was a time not too long ago that I almost took your life and believe me; you wouldn't want to test my resilience twice." I spat through clenched teeth.

He uncrossed his arms and stood taller. "I am the Chief of Security in this building and when management has instructed me to double down on forces, I can only assume you've done something stupid to cause this...do you want to be hauled off to jail, Erik?" He hesitated for a moment, as if carefully choosing his next few words. "I was told that a young lady came into the administration's office to complain about a masked man tormenting her. Is this true?"

"Should you not be asking that question to the young lady?" I sat down on the piano bench and reclaimed the bottle of bourdon. I took a quick swig and contemptuously offered the bottle out to the chief. "On the contrary, never believe a word those silly dancers say."

"Erik...are you really going to risk all of this for a young ballet dancer?"

"All of this!?" I sneered. "I have nothing but a few stuffy rooms underground, hidden away from the rest of the world like some wretched boogeyman..." I took another heavy swallow as the effects of the alcohol began to tickle the edge of my senses. "Don't you worry, Amir. I saved you the trouble. I took care of the little hellion. She won't be a problem anymore."

I watched amused as his face lit up with disbelief and shock. "Please tell me you didn't!?" He pleaded.

"Didn't what? Come now, Daroga, even a hideous piece of filth like me has standards."

"Erik!?"

"No, I didn't kill her. I just delivered a rather personal message. Quite friendly, if you ask me." I chuckled, and took another gulp of the liquor. My skin began to feel aflame now with the lovely poison surging through my veins.

"And what of the young chorus girl? Kristina Daae?" He pried, his eyes searching mine.

"Have you been following me again?" Rage surged through my body and before I knew it I had kicked over the night stand, sending blank music sheets fluttering to the ground. "You have, haven't you? Well, are you entertained? Is it satisfying to see Erik follow around a beautiful girl like a lovelorn pup!? She will never see me for me, so why even bother, Daroga? Pathetic isn't it? Oh, don't look at me like that!"

A look of horror flashed before his face for a fraction of a second. In the heat of my anger and the numbness of the alcohol, I failed to notice the glistening mask resting upside down on the floor. Cursing, I bent down and replaced it over the disfigurement as untold shame flooded my soul.

"This will only end in misery, Erik. Whatever fantasy you've created is only going to come spiraling down. And I'm either going to have to pick up the pieces, or I'm going to have to arrest you. I'm just trying to warn you as a friend. I've known you for 20 years, Erik..."

"You listen to me, and you listen well, Daroga. Stay away from me. Kristina is only my pupil and I plan to guide her to the greatness she longs for. I have no ill intentions and certainly am not planning on harming the girl. It is strictly business." The anger within subsided slightly as the alcohol began to rest heavy on my senses.

"It is never just business with you. You always have a purpose for what you are doing. I just fear the outcome. It will not end well..." He shifted his weight, unnerved from the alarming rate at which the alcohol was emptying. "I think you've had enough my friend. Drinking this will not stave the hurt..."

He went to take the bottle away from the mantle. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed. Before I knew it I had him up against my bedroom wall, wrapping my hands tightly around his neck. His pulse beat furiously beneath my crushing fingers.

"Get out of my house. If you ever come here again uninvited, I will kill you." My eyes narrowed as his breath became short and his eyes began to bulge out of his head.

I released him, and the Daroga's body crumbled to the floor in a heaving pile. He turned his head to stare at me with shock. I turned away from him and reclaimed the bottle to steal another gulp. My fingers trailed over the ivory keys of the piano as a heavy sadness began to invade my body.

"If I have to, Erik, I will use deadly force. Please do not make me do that." He said, his voice raspy from the pressure of my hands against his throat. Giving me one last threatening look, he turned and left the room. A few moments later, I heard the door of the apartment slam shut.

I replaced the bottle back on the mantle and began to beat out a sloppy rhythm on the piano. Drunkenness began to hit me harder as I stared at the empty music holder above the keys. Amir didn't know what I was trying to accomplish and it would be best if such things were kept from him. It was true; we had known each other for over twenty years. He had helped me escape many judgements before, but these were nothing compared to the fate he feared for Kristina. I had truly meant that I would kill him if he was ever here without my prior permission. This is my one safe place and I would hate to have that spoiled over a feigned friendship.

A severe longing to see my Kristina filled my heart with anxiety. Would she abandon me? Would she give up hope in me, would her faith falter? Would her little dancer friend destroy all the leaps and bounds we had made in the past week and half?

All these questions swirled around in my head with unclear answers. The only thing I did know was I couldn't let that little wench, Cass disrupt anything more than she already has. I needed to get her away from Kristina. But how?

'This will not end well.' Daroga's words circled around in my head.

My head fell harshly down onto the piano keys as the vision in front of my eyes began to sway like a rocking ship. One thing was for certain tonight, I would not be capable of any such thought as the bourbon had surrendered me completely obliterated.

The following day slipped away with aimless traversing of the opera house. People around tended to their duties as I watched with boredom. Kristina was in rehearsal all day; her face was etched with remorse and resembled the color of ash. Even from where I sat, far away from the stage, I could see she was detached. She took instruction blindly and stumbled upon her verses like a disembodied corpse. It pained me greatly to see her so. After her rehearsal, she stayed behind the rest of the company, dragging her feet slowly across the wooden beams of the stage floor. I dropped down and tucked myself away behind the curtain. When I was certain everyone else had left, I called out to her.

"Kristina..." I whispered gently.

She stopped her slow advance to the exit and faced the empty theater. "Angel?"

Her voice was hushed, and she looked quickly around her to see if anyone was there. Her hands feverishly circled around in angst.

"It is I, my child. You weren't at your lesson last night when I came to you."

"I waited...but you didn't show up. I thought I upset you." Her head dropped down as her hair fell in beautiful auburn waves.

"You could never do such a thing. Please come for your lesson tonight. There is still much for you to learn."

"I will. I promise." She smiled sadly.

Suddenly, the door to the theater burst open, and a blonde haired girl came barreling in. I sunk deeper behind the curtain as Cassarah crossed the stage to where Kristina stood.

"Kristina- what are you doing? Rehearsal let out 10 minutes ago." Cass looked around the theater, her face screwed up in suspicion.

"I was -"

The rest of the ballet group began to file into the theater. They set their things down as they began to stretch and prepare for their rehearsal. Cass began to lead Kristina away from the rest of the group, towards the back of the stage.

"Go home, Kristina. Get some rest. You look awful."

She shook her head in compliance, but before she left, she stole one last look out at the theater. Shaking her head slightly, she squeezed her slender frame between the squawking dancers. Turning silently, I made my way to the stage door exit. As I slowly pulled the door ajar, to my surprise, Amir was walking down the hall, his uniform crisp and ironed out into perfection. I immediately closed the door and darted behind the cyc towards the ladder leading up into the rafters. The Persian entered the theater just as my foot hit the first rung.

The slamming of the stage door drew the attentions of the ballet rehearsal. The dancers stared curiously at the head of security and began muttering gossips between themselves. Frank parted the mass of people and smoothing down his thinning hair, approached the man. I stood in the shadows, intrigued to know what business he had been seeking there.

"Monsieur Nadir. Can I help you with something? We are under rehearsal at the moment." Frank asked, his irritation barely at bay.

"I am looking for Cassarah Dubois. Is she here?"

"She is. But she is my lead and I need her here to practice her solo."

"Understandable. Please tell her to stop by my office at her earliest convenience." He bowed his head and turned to leave.

Everyone turned to look at the girl, who now was red with embarrassment. She bit her lip and began to pick at unseen imperfections off her leotard. Once Amir had left, I took a more comfortable seat on the rafter. I had nothing to occupy myself with for the next few hours and thought what harm it would do if I observed for a while.

Frank refocused his group of dancers and set off with the introductory scene of act one. It was slow and the majority of the company was rather hoggish in their movements. There was even a very young ballet dancer, plain in every way, who tripped and fell during mid performance. I couldn't help but let out a hushed snigger.

The room grew tense as the dancers tried their best to ignore the eerie noise whispering around the stage. Cassarah, who was standing aside to await her entrance mid act, had stopped her stretching and looked around the theater. She silently slipped behind stage right and searched around the curtains. She looked in every corner and inspected every shadow. She became very flustered when she couldn't find anyone. Defeated, she rested her back against the ladder. Her body grew stiff and craned her head to look up directly at me. I froze where I sat, unable to think as she continued to stare, her mouth falling open in utter shock. To my own dismay, she began to climb the ladder leading up the rafters!

I groaned, 'Not again!'

Bouncing to my feet, I briskly walked to the end of the rafter, trying my very best to keep everything as still and silent as possible. I felt the beams below me tremble as the girl hoisted herself up.

In a few quick steps I made my way to the fly wall and stealthy climbed up to the second rafter. I was about half way across the beam when I felt her climb up behind me. Was she really trying to catch up to me? Turning on my heels, I saw her standing there grasping a fly wire tightly between her fingers.

She was taller than Kristina. Her face was round by her checks but came to a point at her chin and where her golden hair parted. It fell in soft waves down her chest. Her eyes were a sharp, piercing mahogany and encompassed by long eyelashes. Her leotard clung to every curve of her body and she took one shaky step towards my direction. Her agility as a dancer aided her in traversing the beam as there wasn't a rail to guide her steps. She bit her lip in concentration as sweat gleamed along her hairline.

I turned back once more but this time I felt a violent jolt, sending me reeling down to grab the wood to balance myself. Looking behind me, I saw the girl had slipped and was now dangling from the wooden rafter, wildly trying to throw her leg over to save herself from falling. I hesitated momentarily, deciding if I should just go to the hidden door of the forgotten prop room or help the enemy of my due course.

The moral aspect of my mind won and I rushed over to where the girl swung helplessly from the wood. She glared at me, but her resolve gave way to a more desperate plea. Bending down, I grabbed her arms and lifted with all the strength I could muster. Finally, she gave way and we both spilled onto the beam, with her shaking body landing on top of mine. My body tensed involuntarily and I fought the urge to throw her off of me.

Our chests heaved viciously from the excursion. We stared at each other for a few moments before she carefully inched her way back onto the beam. I righted my mask and fixed my vest as she sat down to collect herself.

"Why are you following me!?" I whispered harshly.

"Because I was curious."

"Curiosity will get you killed. I would no doubt be blamed for that misfortune."

"I wouldn't have tripped if my foot wasn't injured." She muttered, her eyes breaking away from her trembling fingers to peer up at me.

"Your foot wouldn't be injured, Mademoiselle, if you minded your own business in the first place. I told you to leave me alone. Do not follow me again."

I turned on my heel and ran up to the fly system. When I looked back, the little dancer was carefully making her way back to the stage. I watched long enough for her to make it to the ladder before I continued into the prop room.

The familiar scent of moth balls and dust invited me in. Within the comforting darkness I stood for a moment to regain my composure. I couldn't shake the slight amusement I felt during the pursuit. Such a brave little soul, to follow a man she utterly feared. What was her gain in doing that?

My fingers trailed the dingy canvases of forgotten scenery as the memory of her body pressed against mine invaded my thoughts. The feelings it provoked completely caught me off guard. Her soft exhales against my face made my blood surge with a menacing speed. She was nothing short of beautiful, I will give her that, but the invasion of my privacy was beginning to wear on my patience. I wished she would just take my warning seriously. Life was much easier that way.

I stayed in the room for a while to digest my thoughts and prayed time would clear them away.

Later that night, it was silent throughout the opera house when I had reached the two way mirror. The only sounds were my faint footsteps along the cement corridor. She still wasn't there and even though I trusted she would come, I had a deep seeded fear she was starting to doubt me.

Just as I was about to give up hope, I heard a faint click of the door settling back into its chamber. I threw back the wood paneling and instantly felt my heart still. She was absolutely gorgeous in a floral dress that stopped at the top of her knee. I pressed myself against the glass and watched her place her stuff down onto the ground.

"Kristina, you look as radiant as the heavens!" I sung out.

She jumped slightly and then blushed. "Thank you, maestro."

"We have lost a day of lessons and I want to make absolutely sure you will be ready for opening night."

We began with the usual warm ups as my voice guided us through the generic notes of the master scales. She followed along yet I could sense some hesitation in every note she sung. Her heart wasn't there as she faltered with our warm up music.

"Kristina, you are not paying attention." I gently chided her.

She dropped her head and muttered, "I'm sorry, my angel."

"What is wrong?"

She hesitated. "Nothing. I think it's just my nerves for the upcoming performance."

"Kristina, you mustn't lie to me. I am the Angel of Music and therefore I see everything. Now tell me what is really troubling you." I clutched my vest with bated breath for her response.

The contention swirling within her mind bled through the pained look in her eyes. She played with the tips of her hair as she teetered back and forth on her feet. As if her courage failed her, she dropped her head down low. "Angel...when you didn't show up the other night-"

"I beg for your forgiveness, Kristina."

"Please let me finish. When you didn't show up the other night, I felt myself wither inside. I was so afraid you abandoned me, which I had somehow committed some untold sin for you to be yanked away from me." She began to cry silent tears causing her shoulders to shake. "I felt cold and alone again. It frightens me."

My heart violently beat against my ribcage as my soul imploded. I understood that feeling all too well in my hellish domain. Loneliness was all I ever knew until this beautiful creature had crept into my life and blinded me with her captivating light. Oh, how I wanted to bathe in it!

'Pull yourself together, Erik. She is such a child, and she only sees you as the ethereal being you've deceptively shown her.' I pushed the negative thought aside. As long as Kristina needed me, I'd be right there with her.

"My dear child. I will always be with you, no matter what transgressions you may or may not cause. Do not cry. Your face is too beautiful to be filled with such sadness. Now, I shall sing you a song to still your aching heart."

Granted, I didn't have a song in mind, so I improvised. I sang her a song about a tale of two lovers crossing a harrowing journey together. My voice rang out in hushed, succulent tones. It rose up towards the heavens and came spiraling down in a melodic flourish of fevered notes. I saw her eyes begin to drift shut, her mind wrapping around the delicate aria I was performing for her. Her breath came out in slow, labored puffs as her head began to fall back with the captivity of the song. She was completely and utterly hypnotized.

Before I could stop myself, I drew back the mirror silently and reached out my silk-gloved hand to stroke her flushed cheek. I tenderly wiped away the tears from her face and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her little ear. Through this, I never ceased my quiet song to her.

Her face was absolutely stunning. Her skin felt creamy and unbelievably soft. She had perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and her long, dark eyelashes fluttered along her high cheekbones. Her lips were coral and turned up into an elegant smile.

"I can feel you here around me." She whispered.

I jumped out of my skin at the sound of her husky voice. The rose I brought with me fell from my fingers and landed softly onto the metal music stand. I scampered back into the safety of the cavern and shut the mirror behind me. I tried my best to compose myself.

"I'm always around you Kristina. It's time to rest. Come back tomorrow night."

She opened her eyes and instantly spotted the white rose lying on the music stand. She gasped in delight. "Oh, thank you."

I felt light headed with giddiness as she cradled the flower to her chest. I pressed my face up against the glass to drink in her emotions. I didn't think it was possible to love this girl anymore.

"Good night."

"Goodnight, my Kristina."

I turned around and began my journey through the desolate tunnels towards my apartment. Tonight, these halls were filled with unheard music and unseen light. I was like a love drunk sailor, swaying back and forth between the catacombs. Perhaps, maybe, there is still a chance at redemption. This beautiful woman could free me from my solace.

'You pathetic fool. No woman could ever free you. No one could ever love you.'

I bit back the dark entity within my mind and continued through my love lust haze of delirium. I craved the musical release of my violin. I had to get these melodies out before the darkness ate them up. They needed to be freed.


	7. Chapter 7 - Confessions

"Cassarah! What is the problem!? It's a pirouette, not a line dance. Lift your body, don't sag it. Point your toes!" Frank bellowed out from the corner of the rehearsal room.

I tried my best to obey but the pain of my injury was warranting countless mistakes. The cut itself wasn't even that bothersome, but the poorly wrapped tourniquet caused great agitation.

We took a five minute break. I sat on the floor on the far side of the room and tried to recoil the bandage which had come loose from dancing. Now that it was tight, I put my shoe back on and stretched a little more to try and clear my mind. Dress rehearsals were underway and if these mistakes kept happening I could easily be cut from the production. I wasn't going to allow that to happen. This man may have taken my courage but he would not take my livelihood.

The rest of the rehearsal finished without any more interruptions. Alex was standing in the opposite end of the room from me, talking to the same ballet dancer as the day before. We hadn't really spoke much since our little adventure in the cellars, and in a way I was perfectly okay with that. He would come around when he became bored with his new muse. That's how it always happened anyways.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and exited the theater. I had another appointment with Dr. Bradley the next day. I had a feeling this was going to be a rough visit. The worksheets she gave me from our last meet up included exercises regarding children and how they made me feel. Another one was about the things that made me feel love. I didn't even bother with them. It was torturous enough sitting there and exposing myself to her, let alone allowing myself to wallow in that grief on my own time. I don't think so!

The gloomy skies outside hung heavy with threatening rain clouds. They seemed to reflect my dark mood. I clenched the collar of my jacket tighter around my neck. With each passing day the temperature dropped more. We were going to be in the throes of autumn sooner than anyone could blink, and the deep chill of winter in pursuit.

Arriving back at the apartment, I paused outside the door. This place was once my safe haven, somewhere I could leave the conflicts of life at the door. Now, I felt invaded, and the comfort I once sought in my apartment was gone. Opening the door, I could still feel the tension heavy within the air. The picture frame was still on the floor, its glass ominously missing.

"Why were the scissors out?" Kris asked, coming out of the hallway.

"Jesus, Kristina! You scared the shit outta me!" My hand flew to my beating heart. I didn't even hear her; I was too wrapped up in my own paranoia.

"Sorry." She stated emotionless.

"Are you okay?" I could sense the shift within her. "You look really pale. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm feeling fine, Cassie. Just haven't been getting enough sleep, with rehearsals and such." Her hands encircled around themselves.

It was deeply disturbing to see her in this state. She was usually so cheerful but now there was a dark vestige hovering all around her. I knew what the cause was and my heart broke for her. It was my duty as her friend to tell her what I knew.

"Kris...I have to tell you something and I don't think you're going to like this."

"What is it?" She asked, crossing her arms.

I looked around the flat, seeking any unnatural form lurking in the shadows. A chill crawled up my back and instantly I got the funny feeling we were being watched. I grabbed Kristina's slender wrist and practically dragged her down the hall into my bedroom. It stunk of stale cigarettes with the overfilled ashtray permeating from my night stand. She went and sat at the edge of my bed while I shut the curtains tight. After last night, I didn't trust any opening in this space.

"Something happened last night. I don't really want to get into detail but I figured out something that you gotta know. It's about your angel of music." I bit my lip. There was this unsettled feeling deep within my gut that I was about to crush my best friends hopes and deflate her dreams.

"I know, I know. I sound absolutely insane."

"I think your angel of music and my scary opera ghost are actually one in the same..." My hands shot up to my mouth as I worked the skin next to my nail with my teeth.

She paused for a moment. "Cassie...that's just a made up ghost story to scare little ballet dancers..." Kristina said, a smile turning her lips. "The angel of music is sweet and his voice is like nothing I've ever heard before. How could there be any possible connection?"

"I don't know exactly. You just have to trust me. I experienced something last night that confirmed my suspicions." The panic began to rise in my voice. "He could be dangerous!"

"Stop! Angels are not dangerous. You have seen your opera ghost. I have never seen this angel before, only heard him and felt him around me. If he was a man, why wouldn't he just show himself to me?"

"Because he's hiding?"

"Are you sure you're not jealous?" She whispered, bowing her head to inspect her nails.

"Jealous!? Are you kidding me?" I grabbed my pack of smokes off the night stand and furiously lit the cigarette. The smoke billowed between us like tumbleweed in a western movie. "There is nothing to be jealous of because it isn't real!"

She stood up infuriated, jutting a shaking finger towards me. "Yet your stupid opera ghost is real!? This is what you had to tell me? The angel said people would be jealous. He said that material things were of no importance to me anymore. No earthly possession, even person is more important than my commitment to him and my music. He warned me...You will not take it away from me!"

"Kris please!" I called after her as she stormed out of my room and slammed the door in front of me.

"Damn it!"

I stood there dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the ignorance of my closest friend. How could it be that I saw so clearly the deception this man was gripping her with? It's as if she didn't understand a word I was telling her. Her utter denial could only mean one thing- she was brainwashed into thinking this man was really an angel. She was clutched in the illusion he has created around her. But I saw the real act.

I sunk down, caressing the grooved hardwood floor and drew in deep on the cigarette, letting the smoke slowly snake out of my mouth. The smell and taste were only a small comfort to my growing anxiety. I crawled over to the edge of my bed and put my head down in frustration. It just seemed like everything I'd been attempting to set this right was exploding right in front of my face.

The image of the masked phantom standing before the balcony doors floated into my head. He was tall, lean- skinny almost. He had a broad chest and wide shoulders that held a vested suit top and a heavy leather trench coat. His mask finely shaped the masculine features of his face. The big, almond shaped eyes were set deep within his head, giving the illusion that they were actually very small. He was the epitome of evil and yet his eyes revealed something else. Thinking more deeply, they almost pleaded to me.

What was I thinking? This man has harassed me twice and he didn't seem to pay any attention to manmade laws. His threats sent a shudder of fear through me. As if out of instinct, my heel began to throb and anger flooded me. I rubbed the rough, makeshift bandage and finally settled on my next plan.

'She is going to find out one way or another. And if I can't show her, then I'll get her away from here. I couldn't live with myself if another person in my life was taken away.'

If he wanted to wage war, then I would be more than eager to counter him. And I won't back down nor will I reach out for anyone's help. This time, I'll be doing this on my own.

Xxx

I stopped outside the stout brick building to flick my cigarette and steel myself for the next hour of interactions. All I had to do was maintain my composure and answer as positively as I could. If I didn't, I knew Dr. Bradley would note correspondingly on my scorecard. These scorecards were shared with everyone who had a hand in my recovery and my custody case; the managers of the opera, my rehabilitation specialist, my case worker and finally the magistrate who looked over my proceedings.

The door closed with a dooming thud. Dr. Bradley sat facing away from me in her wooden office chair. She motioned me to come sit down, her short stubby fingers polished and filled with gaudy jewelry. The leather bound chair creaked as I sat awkwardly facing her.

"Good afternoon, Cass. You look a little disheveled." She said, sliding her pen out from the top of her clipboard.

"Just a rough couple of days..." I answered shortly. I desperately hoped she didn't pry.

"Oh? Care to talk about it?" Bradley poised the pen over her note, waiting for my reply.

"Not particularly. Long story short, there has been tension with a new...student... at the opera house. In the last few days I've hurt my foot, been mocked by my bosses and had a horrible argument with my best friend."

She studied me for a moment and then scribbled a few notes. "I'm sorry to hear about your injury and the tension between you and your friend. We are relatively short on time today as I have a conference I need to head out to at three. Did you happen to try any of those exercises?"

"I glanced at them..." I said, playing with the button on my coat, "I didn't see the point of doing any of that stuff."

"Hmm." She paused, pushing up her glasses over the large hill of her nose. "Well, then I will start off by asking a question. How much do you remember of the night you and Peter were arrested?"

My head shot up and I gaped at her. It was such a dark, traumatic day I felt like my brain blocked it all. I knew if I sat and thought hard enough I could remember enough details to answer her. The only thing was I didn't want to. I had built up a wall surrounding that day, keeping all the hurt and shame bottled there. If I let it all come out, I'd surely die of heartache. Steadying my breath, I struggled to spit out an answer.

"Well... Peter had gone off to see Mac for another run. He said it was the biggest they were doing for a while. He said it would pay well and get us out of the shit we were living in. He started off as a dealer and ended up as one of Mac's right hand guys. When he got back, he was in this frenzy. He sat at the couch and shot a hit of heroin...he looked panicked and I couldn't understand why...I went to go try and calm him down but he threw me away and told me to back off..." I paused, feeling like I was unable to speak the words that were to come next.

"Go on, Cass. This needs to be said, you need to get it out or it's just going to fester." She wrote a few more notes before gesturing me to continue.

"I remember there were knocks on the door and then a huge bang. One of Macs runners barged in, pointing a gun at Peter and then another one came through the door. He must have been the size of a rhino. He paced the room, as the other guy kept the gun on Peter. The big man then punched Peter in the stomach and he fell down to the ground. I went to help him but another one of Macs thugs threw me up against the wall. From the back room, I could hear Andre screaming... After a few tense moments, Mac walked into the apartment. He was furious about something. He kept asking Peter where the money was and who he ratted them all out to. I tried to crawl away to Andre's room, but one of the thugs rounded a gun on me. Mac hit Peter on his face and then started making his way towards Andre's room. I pleaded with him to let me go to my son. I heard a gunshot, and then a few moments later, I heard sirens. My only guess is that one of the neighbors heard the disturbance...they arrested us all and took my son...that's the last I saw of my son..."I dropped my head in my hands and sobbed.

"That must have been very hard for you to experience, especially at the hands of someone whom you loved. I'm sure you felt powerless." The calmness in her voice infuriated me.

"To be honest with you, Doc, I don't remember a lot of details. I was under this veil of influence and drugs. I was weak. I let someone else take control of me and my actions. And that has cost me the only good thing I've ever had in my whole life. In a way, I'm relieved that Andre was taken away from that life because if that never happened and I was never ripped away from that drug and that life, God only knows where we would be." I stopped to take a breath. "This is why I refuse to let a man close to my heart, why I don't feel the need to let anyone in or as you say "make connections". I've done that before and it did nothing but cause me pain and misery. During my life with Peter, I was raped, robbed, stabbed, sold, beat and betrayed. I lost my life and my son and those are two things I'll never get back!" I raged.

When I had finished, I looked down and realized my hands were in tight balls on my lap. Dr. Bradley scribbled incessantly, her rings and bracelets clanging together in her fevered attempts to capture her thoughts.

"Hmm. Cass, I want you to know that your revulsion towards human connection is natural at this stage, but eventually you are going to have to learn to let go. When your mind can separate the past and future, your heart will finally fall and your mind will be at ease. Don't give up, yet. Your progress will get there. Eventually someone will make your heart beat again and perhaps even take you by surprise."

I scoffed. "What do you know? You're single with three cats."

Her eyebrow raised, "That may be true, but I'm also not a virgin."

"Gross."

"How are you handling the stress of the upcoming performance? How have things been around the Opera?"

My heart skipped a beat. She couldn't know...

"Fine-just the usual butterflies." I didn't want to elaborate so I left it at that.

She seemed satisfied with my answer and carried on the rest of our half hour appointment with tips on how to manage stress and triggers for my addiction. The mood seemed to have lifted after this and soon I was able to ease back into the leather chair. We talked of the weather and I told her of the Masquerade at the end of October.

"That sounds like fun! Are you going to with anyone?"

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms. A waft of pungent, musky perfume attacked my nose as the prospect of her question settled. "Not formally. Maybe I'll meet Alex there or something…"

"You should ask him, it could be fun. Or maybe you'll find someone there?" She winked at me.

The clock struck three and we both jumped. She wrapped up our session and shooed me out. I was to go back in a month to reevaluate where I was and we would go from there.

I closed the door and began the walk to the opera house. The leaves skirted across the sidewalks, sounding like rattle snakes. My mind wandered back to the masked man and his warning. He was obviously insane and was quite clever for someone who lived in a basement. Yet, his eyes held so much more than severity and cleverness.

XxX

Walking into the Palais Garner, I was greeted with crowds of people bustling around, trapped in their own business. I veered down the corridor toward the stage, aware of an uncanny feeling of being watched. Whether or not this feeling was present because of the knowledge I had of the phantom residing within the structure, or if I was truly being followed, it was difficult to decipher.

Muffled music from the second act of the performance fluttered its way down the now empty corridor. I glanced at the wooden walls, peering between the tall ornate columns and indentations that lined the wood.

As I passed a decorated mirror, I paused. Looking at my reflection, I suddenly got the eerie feeling someone was looking back. I shuffled a little closer, my eyes narrowing to catch any difference within the glass. My knuckles gently rapped against the glossy surface. Instead of the dead pang one would expect to hear, it sounded...hollow.

Down the hall, one of the chorus members from Kristina's group walked by, and I feigned caring to a loose lock of hair. She passed by, hardly noticing me in her own thoughts. I watched her walk to the end of the hallway without a second glance backwards. I turned to look at the mirror once more.

I heard the swish of fabric and out of the corner of my eye, a shadow moved within one of the columns. I jerked around, but found myself completely alone. Coming to my senses, I shook the sight away, chalking it up to my growing paranoia. I abandoned the mirror and continued my journey towards the music.

As I pushed the handle to enter the theater, I felt a large hand grasp my shoulder. I jumped violently and turned to see a friendly foreigner smiling at me. He wore a uniform and across the chest, the words "Security" were inscribed. His hair was covered by a cream colored turban and a lengthy beard flowed evenly to his neck.

"Mademoiselle Dubois?" His accent purred out into the empty corridor.

I shook my head, "Yes?"

"Could I have a private word with you in my office?" He gestured his hand to the adjoining wing.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, my brows furrowing as butterflies swelled within my belly.

"This is regarding the complaint you made of a possible stow away."

"Oh...yes of course."

"This way, please."

He turned sharply on his heel and motioned me to follow him. I glanced back at the theater door and feeling like I didn't have a choice, hurried to catch up to him. He walked briskly down the hall and stopped outside a plain door. He unlocked it and held it open for me to enter.

The room was simple, windowless and cramped. A dark, oak desk filled one side of the wall, brimming with files and sheets of paper. There was only one other chair available to sit on but it was littered with piles of papers. The man quickly cleared away the mess and pointed to the chair. I sat down and nervously twisted my hair around my trembling finger. I wasn't comfortable around law enforcement. The feeling of being interrogated made me sick to my stomach.

"Mademoiselle Dubois-"

"Please call me Cass." I interjected.

"My name is Amir Nadir. I'm the Chief of Security here at the opera house. I've been made aware by our managers that you've recently encountered a masked assailant." He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, its hinges groaning under the weight of his body.

"I have...on a few occasions." I said, staring at my hands.

"How did you end up seeing this masked man?" The Persian rolled a pen between his fingers as he patiently gazed at me.

"A friend and I had ventured down a hidden corridor as a dare. It was just for fun. I wasn't expecting to find anyone there..."

"Hmm. And you are sure you saw a mask, mademoiselle?"

My head lifted to stare at the Chief of security. "It's the first thing I noticed. It's kind of hard to miss!"

"I see. You mentioned you've seen him on a few occasions. Where else have you encountered the masked man?"

I bit my lip as indecision ate at my resolve. The masked man's threats to stay out of his way echoed within my mind, as if trying to chain me to silence. This was my chance to try and spoil the man's intentions for Kristina. He was dangerous, I knew this, and as long as he had full reign of the opera, I was powerless.

"He cornered me in a hallway, most likely trying to terrify me. He was also at my apartment two nights ago with a not so friendly warning, which by the way is breaking and entering. And yesterday, I caught him spying on the rehearsals from the rafters. I pursued him..."

"Oh...why would you do that?"

"I don't know. I guess I just wanted to know where he went. Or I should say where he stalks his prey." I scoffed and crossed my legs as he carefully observed me.

"That's not a very wise decision. Aren't you afraid of him?"

"Afraid? Fear, sir, is only the mind's reaction to the unknown."

"Hmm..." He sat back to contemplate my analysis.

"Sir, to be completely honest with you, it's not me I'm afraid for anymore. It's my friend, Kristina Daae..."

This time, the Persian's brows lifted in surprise. Obviously he had not seen this bit of information coming. "Kristina?"

"She's a learning Soprano, sir. She replaced the previous lead after a mysterious accident ended up with the "prima ballerina" breaking her ankle last month...which come to think of it-"

Amir interrupted before I had a chance to release my suspicion, "And what are your fears concerning Kristina?"

"She told me about an Angel of Music who tutors her after hours in her dressing room. Apparently this angel is some musical genius. But the kicker is, she has never seen him, only heard his voice. I put two and two together the other night after the masked man came to threaten me. He knows her name, and he told me to mind my own business... The ego of a ghost." My face must have portrayed some wild expression for the Persian had a single bushy brow raised. He scooted much closer and bent his covered head low towards me.

"Cass, I'm going to reveal something to you but you must keep it secret. I can't force you to but for your own peace, I'd heavily suggest it. His name is Erik and he does indeed live deep below the population of the opera house. That's who you saw. He is a presence here, stepping in on behalf of management to correct misgivings and keep the riff raff at bay. But, he is also obligated to keep away from us, which obviously from your statements, he is failing to do."

I was puzzled and unable to comprehend the blunt confession this man had bestowed upon me. "So... You all are aware of him? This Erik?"

"All too aware..." Amir leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face.

"Why the hell is he here? I don't understand why he isn't being forced out."

"Well...in the past it was a much more dire relationship between us all. In the last few years, he's been rather...quiet. As for residency, it was more of a personal favor that I helped him stay here. He had saved my life a few times, and for that I will forever be in his debt."

"Why here? Why not live somewhere else like a normal person?"

He laughed. "Erik is anything but normal. So naturally, he has nowhere else to go. Imagine your reaction to him times a thousand. He exiles himself from the world above to dwell in the darkness. It's too morbid for any of us _mere mortals_ to understand." Amir rolled his eyes and began to play with the pen again.

A knock on the door interrupted our discussion. We both glanced quickly at one another. Amir called the person in. A disheveled man spilled in, out of breath and had said that someone was locked in one of the dressing rooms and couldn't get out.

"Ms. Cass, would you excuse me for a moment? I'll be back as soon as I go unlock this door. We'll finish our conversation as soon as I return. I should only be a few minutes." He called as he thundered out the door, closing it behind him.

The silence pounded in my head as I waited uncomfortably for the chief. I looked across from me to a tall bookshelf. A few shelves were overtaken by volumes of thick, dusty books. The others held pictures of people, places and other keepsakes. I got up to take a better look.

All the people in the pictures were from of far off lands, with furniture and buildings I was unaccustomed to seeing. A picture of a large golden palace spread wide across one of the shelves next to a glass case with a glimmering sword in it. In another picture, there was a family of three, a woman with long, black hair and beautiful, green almond-shaped eyes. Next to her there was a little boy with identical eyes, about the age of ten and next to him was a much younger version of the Persian. Below that shelf there were small, uninteresting trinkets and at the far end a small wooden music box. I opened the lid softly, but clamped it shut after a few cords of music notes drifted out into the silent office room.

"Are you devoid of all manners? First a rat, now a snoop. Tsk, tsk." A silky voice teased. I froze. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and turned to face him.

He sat in my chair, his long legs crossed and his hands wrapped gracefully around his knee. The usual formal attire was present along with his glowing white mask. He looked at me from under his wide brimmed hat and smirked. There was a charming sparkle in his eyes.

I glanced from him, to the only other door in the room and back. "How did you-?" I motioned behind me.

"A magician never reveals his secrets." He took off his hat and flicked it up towards the ceiling. There was a small spark before the hat disappeared into thin air. I gaped at the spot where it was moments ago. "I see you and the Daroga were having a very riveting conversation. Pray tell what could the subject matter possibly have been regarding?"

"How did you-?"

He stood up to his full height and took a step closer to me, his presence overbearing in the tiny office room. "I already told you, a magician never reveals his secrets." He reached behind me and pulled his hat out from around my back. With a snap of his wrist, he tossed the hat back onto his head and flicked the edge with his finger to right it.

"How did-" I stood with my mouth hanging open. I hated to admit it but I was completely enthralled.

"The Daroga, you simple minded woman, what did he tell you?" He propped himself on the corner of the Persians desk, his arms folded across his chest. The man's movements were terribly elegant and distracting.

"Nothing. At least none of your concern." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked steadily at the glowering man before me.

"Knowing Amir, he was most earnestly trying to inform you of my person. And yet here you stand, unperturbed while facing death right before you."

"All I see is a coward hiding behind a mask that gets a kick out of scaring people and taking advantage of weak, young girls." I snapped at him, my courage fluffing my chest out in defiance.

"A coward?" He laughed. "Remarkable. Your ignorance knows no bounds."

"My ignorance!? I know what you're trying to do to Kristina, and believe me I won't let it happen."

"Mademoiselle, it's already been done. She bends to my every command willingly. I am the key to her success and she knows it."

"And what is your gain out of this? Are you trying to get her to sleep with you?"

He seemed taken back by my comment and paused before answering. "Deplorable. My only gain is the pride in which I will enjoy seeing her dreams come true."

"Then why hide from her?"

His arms slowly dropped down to his sides while his hands began to ball up into clenched fists. He slid off the Persians desk and took a step closer to me. The familiar smell of pine and wet cement invaded my nose as he glared down at the top of my head. His body was close enough to where I could see the intricate design of his vest. I fought the urge to back away and bit my trembling lip. I had to stand my ground. He needed to know I wasn't backing down this time, not ever.

"A truth so hideous the devil himself couldn't even fathom it." His eyes betrayed his body as a look of sadness washed over them. There was a commotion outside of the room and I turned around to see the office door begin to open.

"My apologies Ms. Cass! I could not find the right key." Amir said with heavy guilt. "Are you alright?"

"I was just..." I gestured to where Erik had been standing only moments before. There was nothing but the cold, empty air. "Uh...admiring your pictures."

"Ah yes, those are from my homeland in Persia. I get homesick sometimes so it's nice to have some comforts from the country."

"Oh, that's nice." I replied awkwardly. I returned to my seat next to the desk, but my mind was still reeling about the disappearing magician.

"Now where were we?"


	8. Chapter 8 - The Performance

_Hello my fellow readers,_

 _I want to thank the few of you who have reviewed my story. I'm trying to keep my chin up through this experience and keep on writing. Chapter 8 is the turning point for our two characters. I daresay nothing will be the same after this._

 _Enjoy,_

 _J.D._

 _Chapter 8_

He was evidently some rich, boorish man who felt entitled to the world. He stood outside the Opera House as he shivered from the biting gush of autumns flourishing wind. He wore a plain black suit, with a charming bow tie clasped around his slim neck. On his arm rested the elegantly gloved hand of his mistress who upon getting dressed, must have decided to personify a pluming Peacock for the gown she wore flowed in a sea of purples, blues and greens. If her dress wasn't loud enough, her voice most definitely bellowed out above the rest of the awaiting crowd.

It was finally the night of Kristina's performance, and I found myself rudely denied access to my box as it was sold the very night before. To add to my ever growing irritation, management had placed extra security all around the Opera to impede any opportunity for me to join the festivities. They should really expect more from their descended inhabitant, for I had already created work arounds for all their feeble attempts to thwart me. They forgot who they were dealing with.

As the crowd slowly moved forward to the box office, I stalked patiently in the shadows, my hat turned down low over the cream colored mask I saved for the off chance this emperor of darkness ever had to ascend back up to the world. I slinked toward the front entrance and the fidgeting crowd, my heart jittery in my chest as I closed in. With nimble fingers, I readied myself for the wealthy man's pocket. There it was, my chance to watch my little protégé up close and personal. My only hope was that on this moonless night, God did not cast his eyes down on me for I needed all the blind luck I could muster.

The line began to move again. I took the opportunity and bumped into the oblivious couple. We all stumbled forwarded and the man clung to his mistress to right themselves. I plunged my fingers numbly into his warm, wool pocket and pulled out the two tickets. I muttered an apology and veered away from the crowd and down the street as they spat indignant curses behind my back. It didn't affect me either way, for I successfully stole their evening together. In my hand I clutched my prize and piece by piece they were shredded and carried away by the persistent breeze.

I entered the building on the opposite side of the crowd and began the arduous journey to my seat. The halls were empty as everyone had conjugated towards the stage in order to prepare for the first act. Security was busy keeping the lobby occupied and the theater under control. I would have to be just a bit more careful tonight to avoid their searchlights.

The corridors were winding and as I came closer to the theater, the excited voices of the audience began to filter down the halls. I passed the dancing rooms and turned down another hallway. The lobby came into view and before I entered the hidden doorway in the wall, I paused to witness an argument between security and a very upset couple. The large pluming dress filled with purples, blues and greens weaved around as they both shouted at the two security officers standing in front of them.

"This is ridiculous! I paid good money for that Box!" The wealthy man shouted. "I demand to speak to management."

"I'm sorry, sir, no tickets, no entry. If you would like, you can purchase two tickets from the Box office over there." The first patrolman pointed back outside to the entry room.

"I already paid for my Box. My tickets were in my pocket. Someone must have stolen them. Where are the managers? I demand a refund!"

"They will be here when they can, its opening night and they are very busy." The second patrolman said.

"I don't give a shit if the opera house is on fire! Get them down here! I have never in my life been treated this way." The spoiled brat's eyes were bulging out of his head while he panted in rage. The peacock rubbed his arm comfortingly.

I shook my head and chuckled. The price you pay to be so self-centered.

The angry screams of the sop lingered for a few steps before I was completely immersed in the structures innards of utter silence. My gloved fingers trailed the cement wall as I gingerly made my way to the ladder which leads to Box 5. The rush of anticipation to see my beautiful Kristina singing on stage caused a rather joyous spring in my usually begrudging step. This feeling was so foreign to me, I fought the urge to release the tears which had started as a lump in my throat. I swallowed hard again.

Arriving at the hollow column within the box, I stopped and listened intently. So far no one was in the room. I cracked the sliding door a hair to see a full house anxiously chatting away as they waited. The lights dimmed twice, alerting the audience it was almost show time.

I hung back in the column and waited as well. I didn't want to sit out in the box while the lights were blazing. Even though the cream colored mask helped to blend in as skin, there was still a blatant distinction between leather and flesh. I danced my fingers between each other as the silk of my glove swirled and created a soothing melody to aid in relaxing my tension. I wasn't worried in the least that Kristina's abilities would not awe the audience tonight. My confidence in her was unyielding as was my faith in her voice.

It was only hours before that she stood in the dressing room and gushed with excitement. We had practiced all of her solos for the performance and she didn't miss a single note; not one was out of pitch or tune.

"You are ready, Kristina, to bring tears to Paris tonight. You have faithfully committed yourself to this music and to me. Tonight, your dreams shall come true."

"It's all because of you! I couldn't ask you for anything else. Will you be there with me, Angel?" She asked me, as her hands wrung around in tight circles.

"Of course, for wherever you go Kristina, I shall follow." I breathed out, amazed at the way her face displayed such warmth at my words.

She left the dressing room with a smile planted on her face and an air of utter happiness. I couldn't help but wonder if there was hope for it still. Could I possibly be able to show her myself and she still smile as brightly?

'You know exactly what would happen. She would take one look at you- scream and run. You pathetic demon.' The voice within my head snarled.

I waved the thoughts away as the theater was enveloped in darkness. The audience grew silent as the curtain began to open to reveal a modestly dressed stage and the ballet group all lined up, their partners behind them. Their heads were facing down towards the floor as their arms were out in front of them. The orchestra strung up and started with a soft melody as the dancers lifted their heads. They scurried around the stage, their flowing skirts and leotards swirling in a sea of pastel colors and spits of shimmering gauze. Every once in a while, the beading on their costumes would sparkle in the stage lights. The music heightened and the dancers grew feverish in their movements to match the growing rhythm.

I looked out through the crack in the column. Everyone else was focused on the stage, their eyes drinking in the beautiful spectacle like a scorched desert plain. I slid back the column door and sat down under the shadows of the box's curtains.

The dancers split up and two separate groups huddled on either sides of the stage. A blonde haired dancer dressed in a red leotard and flaring tutu seductively danced down the middle of the stage, her legs gracefully floating above the floor. Her body stretched and she pirouetted towards a man standing at the far end of the stage, his hand out beckoning to her to join him. She raced across the stage and when the dancer's hands met, she was twisted up into the male's arms. They mirrored their movements as their embrace became sultrier.

I felt the heat coursing through my veins and creeping up my neck as I sat mesmerized by the lovers dance. They joined the rest of the company and filed off of the stage with a series of pirouettes and spins. Cass may be the most irritating woman I had ever come into contract with, however she was able to portray such emotion in the ways of her dancing. She was absolutely breath taking.

'A ballet rat nonetheless. A most irritating rat.'

As the curtain closed for a scene change, I adjusted myself in my seat to a more comfortable position. It had been a few seasons since I had allowed myself the privilege of viewing a performance from my box. The deafening shrill of the previous soprano, whose name I cared not to remember, was more than enough to dissuade my interest in attendance. I did all of Paris a favor when she mysteriously slipped and broke her ankle. Perhaps if she wasn't strutting around in her own arrogance, she would have noticed the set piece in front of her. Karma had an unusual way of dealing favorable punishments. As do opera ghosts who had idiots for landlords.

The rest of the first act whizzed by in chorus and dance as the audience was carried away with the romance of the story line. The male lead, I was almost afraid to admit, was well placed for his role. He was young, easy on the eyes, yet his voice was well trained. Even after admitting this to myself, the boy lacked the sound understanding of the music he sung. Though, I resigned to the notion that not all could be blessed with an angel of music and smirked to myself. He stalked off the stage and the room was bathed in darkness once more for another scene change.

The curtain lifted to reveal an evening landscape, with savory blue lighting and a glistening moon. A few set trees finished the scene, their branches looming over the empty stage. Kristina walked from behind the trees, her soft steps revealing the slower half of the first act. She was stunning in a cream satin dress and her hair fell in perfect ringlets to rest just below her chest. Throwing all inhibitions, I leaned over the velvet banister of the box. She took one steadying breath and began her first aria of the night. From the very first notes, I was utterly captivated by her voice. It circled around my heart and set my blackened soul aflame. She listened well in our lessons and executed what she learned from her maestro.

I gleamed in pride as the lump within my throat surged to a suffocating size. My gloved hand clamped over my trembling lips as a choke threatened to spill out. The breath within my chest caught and I struggled to keep myself composed to hear the remainder of the aria.

Just as she was about to bellow out the last note of the song, I heard faint voices bleeding through the hall behind the curtain covering the box. Anger poured into my veins as I fled to the column. Just as I slid the door shut, I heard the box keeper screech the curtain open. Through the sliver of the door, I saw the wealthy man and his belligerent mistress take a hefty seat where I was moments before.

'Insolent little shits!'

Through the pounding in my head, I heard the thunderous applause from the ending of the first act. My fists began to crumble into tight balls against the wooden structure. Indecision toyed with my moral consciousness. I could always dispel of the two loiters, but they may bring even more unwanted attention to an already complicated situation.

I relinquished my box, for now. The thought of being actively pursued in my own home was very tiring and threatened to put a wedge further between me and my beloved Kristina. Perhaps I could go back behind the stage and check on how she was doing. It should please her to know her angel of music was there listening to her every note.

Backstage was a hum of busied stagehands, prop masters, and performers all gathered around the wings of the stage. Their exuberance emanated energy enough to entice even me into their world. My eyes narrowed through the mass of people but Kristina was nowhere to be seen. I slipped passed the stage to the dressing rooms, and there in our little music room, where together we produced such an ethereal space, she stood fixing her hair. I was about to call out to her, until I noticed a rather pretty blonde dressed in a red tutu sitting in the back, stretching her feet.

"I just don't think it would be a good idea, Cass. London is so far away." Kristina worried her bottom lip. My heart stuttered. Where was she planning to go?

"Don't be so melodramatic, Kristina. It's only two hours by train." Cass gave up on her stretching as she sauntered over to her friend.

"I've just really started my gig here. If I leave they might replace me."

"They wouldn't dream of it. You floored people already, and it's just now the second act. Plus, after this performance, we go on holiday. If you ask me, now is the perfect time. You'll be back before the start of the next season." She placed a slender hand on Kristina's shoulder.

"My angel would not agree to this, Cass. In fact, he would be infuriated." She turned toward the ballerina and bowed her head low.

"Do you really think your angel is going to be here ten years from now Kristina!? I doubt it. But you will be, and if you truly wish to pursue this as your career, make this your life's work, why in the hell would you not go!?" She shook her lightly as if to knock some sense into her.

Kristina growled in frustration. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

"If your angel is really here for your benefit, then he would not be able to deny this trip would be a great opportunity for your career."

"Do you really think so?" Her brows furrowed as tears began to well in Kristina's eyes.

"Let him stop you." Cass dared, as she peered pointedly at the large mirror in front of them. My hands instinctively imploded into my palms.

The door creaked open and the stage director poked her grayed head through the crack.

"Two minutes ladies. Please start making your way to the stage." She was gone.

The two women collected their things but the ballerina stopped with her hand on the opened door.

"You need to do this Kristina. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to study in one of the finest opera houses besides here. You don't want to look back at this opportunity with regret."

Kristina's eyes lit up as absolution took hold. "You're right. I suppose I could go on the retreat. I will have to pack tonight." They embraced and rushed out the door.

The fierce beating in my chest almost took my breath away. Kristina was leaving the opera house!? Surely, she would t leave without my blessing? From the days leading up to the performance, I must have missed a crucial detail that had displayed somewhere behind my back.

I smelled a rat!

I raced through the hidden corridors behind the stage, and after checking to make sure the coast was clear, I climbed up the ladder leading to the rafters and flies. A young man was crouched by the fly system and before he could even see me, I encircled his arm and neck with mine in a vice grip. His hair parted ever so slightly with my panting, as his breathing became shallow at my unyielding pressure.

He lay down in a heaping pile, unconscious for the time being. Stepping over his form, I made my way to the light systems. They were lined all in a row, an intricate neighboring of wires, hinges and handles. I peered down through the maze of technical equipment to the stage below. The beginning of the second act was underway, and Cass's solo was quickly approaching. The wrath still boiled beneath my skin as the thought of her betrayal pierced my heart again. She could not be doused with water, so perhaps a bit of scorching would finally get the point across.

If I timed it right, the light would hit perfectly upon her blonde head, and once and for all her meddling would be out of the way for good. She would not be able to entice my Kristina to leave me anymore, or even worse, divulge my secret without my proper revealing. She wanted to test me, and now she would have to unfortunately pay the price.

Such is the consequence when you gamble with the Devil.

I counted the measures, and with quick work, unhooked the light perched upon the guard rail. It was much heavier than I had anticipated, but I didn't have ample enough time to recalculate the distance and speed. The dancing pair broke off and Cass inched closer to the center of the stage. She was just a step away from the target, and with a flick of the wrist, the light cascaded down towards its demise.

The gruesome sound of breaking glass, bending metal and plastic erupted into the theater, sending its contents into a sheer panic. Before making my hasty exit to the prop room, I chanced another glance down. To my dismay, there wasn't a crumbled body, but a rather disheveled dancer and her partner, who clutched his leg that was ensnared in the mangled remains of the light fixture.

Druthers! I had miscalculated the distance and missed her by only an inch.

Cass turned her head up towards me and her once worried expression turned sharply into an icy glare. I met her evenly, and for a moment I did not move. I should be fleeing into the safety of the walls, far away from the threat of being caught. For some strange reason, I was transfixed by the look in that woman's eyes.

This wasn't the first misfortune that I had ever expunged from this theater, nor on any given person. And yet, a very foreign emotion began to chip away at the frozen core of my heart.

Guilt.

The heavy fabric of my cape swirled about as I made my way to the prop room. This ballerina, who tore a gaping hole into the seam of balance in my world, tugged emotions out of me I long thought expired. The prop room was too small and lacked sufficient air as the four walls began to close in around me.

I staggered toward the door adjacent to the one from the stage and ripped it open. Instead of leading down towards the bowels of my home, this way lead to an antechamber; a dark circular room with a spiral staircase leading up. I needed space, and the cool stale air of my cavernous abode would not do anything to squander away these 'feelings'.

Paris glittered before me as the stairwell emptied out onto the slated roof. The statues hung protectively around me and I sucked in the cold, biting air. Stumbling over towards the edge of the building, I perched myself between two stoic statues that overlooked the city streets.

How could Kristina leave without confronting me about her little adventure? Surely she wasn't afraid of me? Was she worried I would forbid it?

'Of course I would have, but if she truly wanted to go, I'm sure I could have figured something out. Or at least encouraged her to wait a few seasons. We had come so far over the past few weeks and I was beginning to plan my reveal to her. Now what was I to do?'

It was infuriating to think that a ballet rat out played me at my own game. Shameful even! But as I gazed down at the populous going about their nightly sprawl, I couldn't help feeling defeated. And the most absurd thought was she made me feel guilt for the first time in decades. I had done worse than this and never even batted an eye.

My thoughts swallowed me as I sat like the neighboring statues, allowing the air to slowly dispel my displeasure from the night. An ambulance had come and gone, and people slowly exited the theater as festivities began to celebrate the end of the performance. I didn't have the heart to watch the party below, but the music began to drift up from the many floors of the opera house.

I paced the uneven ground of the roof until I was sure there were tread marks. Going inside seemed almost like a punishment yet the call of my piano beckoned me to the warmth from within. Grudgingly, I began the journey back to my home. It was utterly quiet by the time I made it to the main floor as the performers retired from their party. No one was left, not even security.

As I passed the dancing wing, I noticed a woman exiting the building alone, and rather tipsy. Without much fear of capture, I followed her outside the stone exit. She stumbled a few times across the lawn, but righted herself before the sidewalk. As she turned to look for oncoming traffic, I recognized the woman to be Cass.

Losing interest, I made to go back into the opera house when out of the corner of my eye, I saw three men begin to follow her. They were dressed all in black, with black caps upon their fat heads. They were of medium build, but I sensed a danger within them that only fellow entities could catch. Groaning, my moral side of my mind gave and I began after the four of them.

The alleyways provided the coverage I sought to keep out of their eyesight. They were horrible criminals, for I could hear their lazy footsteps and their boisterous voices a few yards away. If it were not for the alcoholic state of their target, she would have caught on long ago. They rounded a corner and disappeared from my line of sight. The sidewalk where they just stood provided no clues as to which way they went and only the sound of the wind whistling through the barren trees circled around me. A car turned down the street and I dashed behind an alley before the headlights could catch me.

After the car passed, I heard a disturbance from the other side of the block. With nimble feet, I climbed the ladder, traversed the slopped roof and peered down at the dark alleyway below.

She was cornered, the towering walls of the buildings besides her forbidding an escape as her back was towards the dead end. She held out her hands in front of her, as if to shield herself from whatever weapon they pointed at her. The dumpster panged behind her as the assailants pushed on. One of the men moved forward, grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun it around her back while the other hand rested a shimmering knife against her bare throat.

I took the wrings of the ladder by two as a second man stepped forward. He opened his ugly mouth and addressed the frightened girl.

"Looks like we finally caught ourselves the ballerina, boys." They all grinned. "We've been looking for you.

"I wonder just how pliable she is." He took a step toward her. "Mac said to bring her back alive, but he never said to bring her back untouched"

"I'd kill you before you lay a hand on me!" She grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Oh my little prima ballerina, I don't plan on using my hands." His smile was wicked as he closed in on Cass. He reached out a grimy hand that caressed her collarbone and trailed down her stomach to grip the hem of her dress.

"You're fucking sick! You low-life, inbred, piece of shit!" She screamed as she spat at the man.

He slapped her face and she keeled over, only staying upright from the thugs hold on her. "I was going to be gentle, but now I think I'm going to enjoy splitting you in two." He began to fiddle with his waistline.

"Please- you couldn't fuck a goat!" She snapped.

I chuckled and called out to all four of the unsuspecting persons below, "She's against three men, yet she still has the courage to utterly embarrass you all. You should be dying of shame."

They all looked around the alley, unable to pinpoint the direction of the ghostly voice. The girl took advantage of the distraction afforded to her.

Cass shoved her free elbow into the gut of the man behind her and his knees hit the pavement. She bypassed the brute leader in front of her but was caught in the arms of the third. She wrestled with him for a moment before kneeing him in his groin. Before she could make her escape, she was grabbed by the brute, his thick fingers twisting into her blonde locks. She yelled out in pain and was then thrown into the brick wall, falling unconscious.

Just as the others were beginning to collect themselves, and while the brute prepared himself to violate the ballerina, I had finally descended to the last level of stairs. Skipping the ladder completely, I jumped down from the ledge and landed with an audible thud which drew the attentions away from the slumped woman.

The brute whipped around and instantly grew irritated. "Who the hell are you?"

I stood with my head dipped low under the brim of my hat and didn't respond.

"I said who are you?"

The other two men slowly brought themselves about.

"I'd suggest you leave the girl alone." My voice rumbled out among the brick buildings.

"Oh yeah? And if we don't?"

The three men crept slowly closer to me, their eyes bulging with excitement. They obviously felt confident in their numbers against me.

My head lifted and their attentions were instantly drawn to the white mask contrasted against the darkness.

"What are you some kinda freak?" The knife wielding thug gasped.

The blood in my head began to surge as the familiar ripple of anger tore through me. All my life I've been regarded in such a way and tonight was no different.

"Do you care to find out?"

Boisterous laughter filled the space as all three men keeled over in utter amusement. The knife wielding man slithered towards me. He was but a breath away and my fingers twitched to end this game and be done with them.

"What are you going to do? Stare me to death!" He poked me lightly with the point of the blade.

I grabbed his wrist faster than he could fathom. The bones crunched gruesomely as I twisted and snapped his forearm. He screamed in agony as the knife slipped from his mangled fingers with a clang. He fell to the ground writhing.

My teeth clattered within my skull as something solid contacted my face. The silent thug's momentum sent him stumbling and I took the opportunity to catch the back of his head and slam his face into the brick wall beside me.

The leader reacted, encircling his meaty arms around my neck and tugged me away from his accomplice. My chin hit my chest as I tried to belie the man's attempt to choke me. We circled around the alley until his back met with the brick wall, the impact echoing around us.

The pounding in my head was all I could hear through the scuttle.

The silent thug was back to his feet. He came barreling towards me, slashing blindly with the broken man's weapon. I shoved my boot into the man's groin for the second time that night. He fell to the ground and began to roll while his hands cradled his manhood.

I bucked the leader off of my back. He rounded on me and delivered a punch to my gut. Then to my face.

The cold autumn air caressed the bare skin of my cheek. I looked over to see my mask lying haphazardly on the ground. The brute in front of me froze as his eyes hung wide with horror and then disgust.

"What are you!?" He shrieked, his facing growing pale.

The taste of blood began to mingle within the dryness of my mouth. The clarity in my vision was infiltrated with a sea of red as anger exploded. My hands caught his neck and began tightening around the warm, beating flesh. I pulled him close to my face and his eyes grew wide as his throat gurgled with escaping whimpers.

"I am the Angel of Death."

And I watched as the spark slowly began to dim from his eyes and the pulse beneath my fingers desisted. I dropped the body and began towards the silent thug, still holding his genitalia. The cotton fabric of his shirt screeched as I yanked him up to his feet.

"Collect your friend and get out of here." I flung him to the ground next to his comrade, who was now in a fetal position nursing his deformed arm.

They both limped off and disappeared around the street corner. I slumped against the wall as my chest burned from the excursion of the fight. I looked down at Cass, her wispy blonde hair curtailing with blood from the seeping gash on her forehead. My fingers smoothed over the strands to take a better look at her injury. It would need stitching but I couldn't very well waltz into a hospital without the prying eyes of the staff. Not to mention the questions that would ensue. I turned back towards the dead man's body lying in the middle of the alley. Some careful cleaning needed attending first before a true decision could be made.

The man's head thumped against the ground as his limp body dragged behind me. Staring at the wide eyed face, I felt neither guilt nor pleasure from it, but rather a sense of completion. He wasn't innocent in the least and couldn't have deserved a better fate. I deposited him behind the dumpster and returned the mask to my face.

I peered down at the lifeless girl once more.

Surely I could leave her. My good deed was done and she was still alive. Yet, there was something so innocent about her lying there which made me pause. I was utterly torn in my decision.

A stinging in my forearm brought my attention back to the alley. Looking down, there was a long slash through the sleeve of my dress coat. Blood began to ooze out and drip onto the cement ground below.

'She is the only one in your whole life who saw you as a person, as a man.'

I sighed.


	9. Chapter 9 - A Talk over Tea

_Hello readers!_

 _I hope everyone (those of you who partake) had a wonderful Halloween! Mine, for one, was VERY hectic as my daughter's birthday is on 10/30 and then the chaos of Halloween celebrations. We will have candy until May, I swear!_

 _Anyways, I apologize for the post being behind. The upcoming chapters have been rather difficult to complete to my liking. But in this chapter we see the two most stubborn people try to make sense of what happened. Please read and review and let me know what you think thus far._

 _Regards,_

 _J.D._

Chapter 9 – A Talk over Tea

Consciousness called to me through the darkness. As reality began to shift in my mind and the dizziness subsided, I could tell even without opening my eyes, my destination was far from the apartment. An unnatural hum echoed throughout the area as if I was situated next to a drainage pipe. The air felt heavy and moist as the smell of water and dust invaded my senses. The sheets were soft and silky over my hardly clothed body.

And God did it ache!

Every inch of my arms down to my toes were on fire with pain. My head was a fury of swirling agony as the burning in the back of my skull became even more prominent.

My body writhed in discomfort, trying desperately to remove the feeling away from my nerves. A whimper escaped my lips into the dank room, which I could now tell was completely enclosed. Even through the pain, curiosity ate at me like a starved animal. I wrenched my eyes open and was greeted by more blackness. Nothing gave away where I was but the hum was accompanied with a rhythmic tinkling sound. Only one thing was for certain, I was near water.

I attempted to sit up in the bed I was laying in but another wave of dizziness hit, disorienting which way was up and which was down. I swayed to my left and fell down with a deafening crunch, taking some solid object with me. The cold stone floor soothed the pounding in my head. A shaft of gray light shot through the room as I heard someone approaching. Frigid, smooth hands crawled under my back and under my knees as I felt the sensation of being lifted. After laying me back down, gentle fingers crossed my forehead and slipped down the side of my face. I moved to follow the calming gesture but they were gone.

"Sleep. Soon the pain will be gone." The sweetest, most melodic voice tickled the space within my head.

I was submerged back into the twilight zone, falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole I struggled so hard to surface from.

When I awoke for the second time, everything was much clearer. The unearthly humming continued as my senses righted themselves. The room came into view with an oil lamp burning on the vanity across from me. I was surrounded by sheets of crimson and sheer curtains hung from the canopy bed. Where the hell was I?

Slowly, I swung my feet around and placed them gingerly on the cool, smooth surface of the stone.

Looking to my right, I noticed a small ribbon of light protruding into the room. The door silently opened to a stone hallway, with tapestries and sculptures adorning the walls.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing down the empty hallway.

No one answered.

"Is anyone there?" I tried again. The dull ache in my head swelled and I had to lean against the stone wall for support.

There was light coming down from a stairwell on the opposite end of the hallway. Carefully, I climbed the steps, my weight never leaving the support of the wall.

The stairs emptied out into a large living area, with a dying fire settled within the cobblestone hearth. The room was scantily decorated with a few bookshelves, an armchair and a worn settee positioned in front of the fire. Behind the settee, there was an entryway with a coat rack and two huge mahogany doors. To my surprise, they didn't have any handles on them.

'Where the hell am I?'

I stumbled into the room and went towards the fireplace to gather its warmth. It was very cold in this place and as I took a seat on the settee, I noted there weren't any windows.

"Hello, is there anyone here?" I cried out once more as desperation leaked into my voice.

"I see you are finally conscious."

I jumped at the voice seemingly coming from everywhere. In a recessed corner of the wall by the stairwell, a figure stood against the frame of a doorway I hadn't noticed before. The figure stepped farther into the room and the dim light danced off the pearly, white mask.

"It's you." I groaned, my heart clambering heavily within my chest. "Where am I?"

"You are in my sitting room." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you not impressed?" He watched as I took another glance around, a look of dreary comprehension on my face.

"Why am I _here_?" I shivered. The pain in my head began to throb incessantly. My fingers went to my forehead and caught the seam of a bandage across the right side of my brow.

"You were injured and for some reason I felt obligated to see that you were taken care of. I brought you here where I knew we wouldn't be followed." He crossed the remainder of the room and sat heavily in the armchair. His fingers smoothed back his dark hair and then hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair.

I played with the bandage while my mind tried to remember what happened. I couldn't seem to pull all of the memory out from the darkness.

"What happened? Were you following me? How did we get here?" I begged him for an answer. Only short, flashes of scenes flew through my head of the attack. Then nothing. There needed to be some clarity.

He sighed. "Let's just make one thing clear, I was not following _you_. This is, after all, my opera house, and where it is normal for the likes of me to be meandering the building late at night, it is not for a young woman. I was following the three miscreants who took an interest in your whereabouts. I was merely curious as to the outcome. They had specific interests in you and wanted to kidnap you. I did what any person would have they befallen such a scene...I took care of them."

"Did you kill them?" I whispered.

He paused for a moment and brought his fingers together before answering. "I killed one."

I digested the information and couldn't bring myself to respond in any way, so I just shook my head. The movement caused another pang of agony and for a moment I thought I was going to be sick. My fingers dug into my skull as I tried mercilessly to stop the throbbing. "Ugh, my head!"

He came to kneel before me and swatted my hands away. The faint aroma of pine and burnt wood invaded my nose. "Let me take a look. I want to make sure it was sealed properly and that there are no signs of infection."

Erik slowly peeled away the bandage and peered closely at my brow. I watched him while he dabbed at my head and investigated the stitching. His eyes were still that breathtaking gray and the mask covered almost all of his face. There was only a small portion of his cheek and forehead uncovered on the other side of his face.

"It must be uncomfortable to wear something like that all the time."

His eyes flickered to mine and his concentration faltered. For an instant I regretted my outburst while his gaze burned into mine.

"It can be bothersome. However, it is more comfortable than the alternative." His face screwed up in reserved anger.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to-"

He interrupted me, "Gawk?"

"-Be rude." He returned the bandage harshly. I winced as he stood up and retreated to his chair.

"Don't apologize for being curious. Besides, it's obviously in your nature." He waved a hand towards me. "What were you doing wandering around the opera alone at such a late hour?"

"I...well, I was looking for you." Heat crept up my neck and burned into my cheeks.

"For what purpose?" He asked, playing with his fingers once more.

"You almost killed me, and you nearly crippled Alex." The memory of the light crashing down inches from me and the image of Alex's mangled leg brought back the stale anger of the night before. "I wanted an explanation, I guess."

"I warned you, Cassarah, to stay out of my business. You encouraged Kristina to leave here without my consent and behind my back. You knew what you were doing and what the repercussions were. It was so obviously intentional. I was just sending you a message...The boy was collateral damage." He looked away into the sizzling embers of the remaining fire.

"The opportunity for Kristina to study in London for a couple months wasn't something I made up. I only encouraged her because it would be great for her career. You can't deny her that."

"I make no claim on Kristina, only the voice she harbors. Do you really think she would have come this far without her guiding Angel of Music!? She was searching for something no less than a miracle. How could I deny her that? She may not know poor Erik, who pines for her, loves her and would do anything for her, but she does know the Angel and the voice who so patiently teaches her!" He madly exclaimed, his fingers digging into the arm of the chair. "Your ignorance has spoiled everything."

He gracefully fanned his fingers over his brow, shielding his glowing eyes in the process.

"I couldn't allow my best friend to become victim to some crazed, masked lunatic." I retorted.

He swiftly stood up and towered over me. I sunk deeper into the couch with his blazing eyes venomously glaring down at me.

"Mademoiselle, you speak such harsh words to a man who saved your life." He said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the doorway which he came from. The wood splintered when he slammed it shut.

Arguing with this man clearly wasn't going to get me anywhere. Gathering all the courage I could, I rose from the couch, steadying myself against the armrest. My eyes blinked away the speckles of light as my head surged with, harsh pounding pain. I fought the urge to be sick again and stumbled my way to the door.

The handle squeaked as it turned in my grasp.

Light poured into my view and I instantly moved to shield my eyes. Once they adjusted, a drawing room was unveiled. Oil lamps covered the walls and a small chandelier hung over the desk that stood against the farthest corner. Drawings littered every surface as beautiful paintings and sculptures lined the outskirts of the room. Erik sat unmoving at the desk, his head cradled within his long, skinny fingers. He was deep in thought.

"Erik?" I leaned heavily against the doorway.

"Leave." He muttered.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't say things like that. I'm throwing judgements around as if I know you. I mean...you do seem like a psychopathic murderer. _But_ you _did_ rescue me, no matter how much I hate to admit I needed rescuing. I should be thanking you." I gazed at him, battling the dizziness swirling within my head.

He said nothing.

I picked at nonexistent dirt beneath my fingernails as the silence grew between us. "So...why did you bring me here? The apartment was only a few blocks away...how did we even get here?"

Another moment of silence before the man sighed heavily as if each question stoked the flames of irritation.

He looked up at me. His eyes were stunning in the lamplight. "Mademoiselle, I already told you. I didn't want to run the risk of being followed. The mask prevents me from being able to simply waltz into any hospital or residence without incessant questioning. I deducted my humble _abode_ -," he spit out the words in disgust. "-Would be the safest retreat for your recovery. As for your other question, I carried you."

"You...carried me?" A brow lifted on my face.

"Yes..." He stood up with such force, the wooden chair underneath him screeched into the wall. "Are you so dense as to not understand the point I am trying to make? _This_!" He hailed a violent gesture towards the mask on his face. "This…Prevents me from many normal customs."

"Is that why you live like this? It can't just be because of your face." I instantly regretted the question as his expression darkened.

He stalked closer to me as his eyes bore into mine. "You really lack common courtesy and with that any sense of fear. Do I not frighten you!?"

His voice echoed in drones as confusion carried my tongue away. "Uh...do you want me to be afraid of you?"

"Fear simplifies things. Perhaps then you wouldn't ask such impertinent questions." He pushed me aside and in a storm of anger began to descend down the stairwell.

"Hey! Wait!" I turned to rush after him.

I made it to the first step of the stairs before the whole world swirled before me. My hands flew in front of my body to brace for the impending crash down. I closed my eyes tight and waited for the pain.

A force stopped my plight in mid descent. I opened my eyes and realized I was only inches from the protruding edge of a stone step. Strong arms circled around my waist and pulled me to an upright position. My head slowly lifted from the ground and found yellow eyes centimeters away. My stomach tightened and the skin where he held me tingled ever so slightly. His eyes gave away a look of concern, and something deeper before they iced over once more. His gentle hold around my side dropped and he began down the hallway.

"Thank you." My voice was hushed as a lump began to form in my throat. Confusion set in at the strange spark igniting the nerves throughout my body.

"You need more rest. It would do us both good." He trudged to the open door and gestured for me to follow.

The tension between us shifted as I stared at him. "When can I go home?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked exhausted. "Perhaps when you can walk on your own accord."

"Fair enough, I guess."

As I approached, he turned around and made for the end of the hall. Another door which was hidden amongst the shadows opened and closed behind him.

Resigning to the ill lit room, I laid back down on the soft bed, curling myself into a tight ball. The awkwardness of the whole situation settled within the pit of my stomach. He was a strange person, there wasn't any doubt in that, but deep within I could see the aspects of a man desperate for human connection. For reasons I couldn't quite comprehend, I had a slight attraction to the mystery behind his eerie, yellow colored eyes.

From the small conversations we've had, he seemed to be battling mostly with himself. How could someone shut themselves away and live such a life in this darkness and _not_ go insane?

I turned over and stared at the oil lamp sitting on the vanity across from the bed. The distant hum returned this time but didn't offer any comfort from the unending thoughts and questions lingering in my mind.

My sworn enemy for the past few weeks was now my savior. I snickered at the irony and closed my eyes once more to try and invite sleep. As I laid there for a while, the pounding in my head began to subside but I couldn't rest my thoughts.

The faces of the three attackers flashed before my closed eyes, their grimy hands tearing at my body once again. The cool, smooth surface of the blade was rigid against my throat as the memory taunted me. I forced back the tears that pricked at my eyes and clenched them tightly shut, willing away the images from my mind.

These feelings reminded me of a time I've been trying to bury deep inside my memory. Years ago, when days were a bit more hazy and centered on the next hit of available heroin, there were situations in which any normal person would not find themselves in. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for another score just to keep myself going for the next day. I knew it was getting bad when rape was an acceptable form of payment. I wasn't much more worthy than a piece of chewed gum.

I sighed and threw the covers off and once again climbed out of the bed, taking care not to jostle around too much. The sickening disorientation didn't come this time so I took a few feeble steps toward the oil lamp. Turning the metallic knob, the room brightened before me.

It was larger than I originally surveyed and was surprised to find a second door within. I opened it and gasped at an elegant bathroom. I gaped at the decorated, marble sink. A gold laced mirror ran the length of the counter and an iron claw bathtub sat next to it. Across from the bath, there was an ordinary toilet.

I stepped closer to the mirror and inspected my appearance.

I looked like hell. Blood and dirt caked the tattered cocktail dress I wore the night before. Heat invaded my face when I caught sight of the tear which provocatively stretched up my thigh. My hair was a ragged mess and dirt lined the frame of my round face. I smoothed back the blonde strands of hair jutting out of the mangled pony tail but gave up. Instead, I pulled the hair tie out, letting the length roll down to my chest.

The cold water from the faucet dripped down my face as I cupped more within my shivering hands. Beyond the chill, the water served to chase away any remaining haze from the events of the night before. I felt completely refreshed.

Returning to the bedroom, I grabbed a sheet off the bed and quietly exited through the door. The hallway was mostly silent except for the faint sound of unconnected piano notes and hushed breathing. My feet carried me down the hall to the other room, its door now cracked. Pausing for a moment, my fingers deftly pushed the wood open.

The room was completely black with thousands of music notes covering every inch of the walls. A tall, wooden mirror stood in the corner of the room, its top half smashed beyond recognition. Next to the mirror was an oak armoire with embellishments carved along the frame. In the middle of the room, on top of a mini pedestal was a wooden coffin. I shuddered.

Erik was sitting at a large piano, his head resting upon his arms. He must have taken his dress coat off for now he only had on a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Beneath the shirt, his muscles flexed as his shoulders quaked.

"Erik?" I whispered gently.

He didn't move nor acknowledge my call.

The sheet crumbled against my chest and my fingers gripped it, holding in the nerves that twitched and fluttered in my stomach. I stopped behind him, catching the sound of quiet sobs muffled within his skin.

My hand fell to his shoulder.

A crushing force on my wrist rendered me shocked as he whirled me around and slammed me against the hard, black wall. His forearm instantly crushed against my throat as the air was forced from my lungs. The sheet dropped to the floor as Erik put the weight of his body against me. His unseeing eyes pierced through me as my fingers dug into his deathly hold. My eyes grew wide, the moment elongating to what felt like eternity.

"Erik...it's me...it's...Cass!" The air blew out with the force of each word. Recognition inched upon his face as his eyes fell down to his arm.

He released the pressure upon my throat as he retreated, bumping into the piano bench in the process.

He raked a hand roughly through his hair as we both stared wildly and out of breath.

He turned his back to me and took a moment to regain his composure. My fingers fondled the place where his strength tore at my neck.

Erik groaned. "Are you alright?"

"No." I snapped.

"You were supposed to be sleeping."

"I…I couldn't sleep." I felt the familiar pangs of dizziness tease my sight. I swayed and slid towards the ground.

Erik grabbed my arms and held my body sturdy against the wall for a moment before leading me to sit at the piano bench. The same spark rippled up my limbs and crashed to my abdomen.

"Your curiosity will one day get you killed."

"I'm sorry..."

The air hung heavy as silence once again wedged between us. He bent down and picked up the crumpled sheet and flung it out to me. I took it and draped it across my shoulders, a painful shiver running through my core.

Erik rubbed his forehead for a moment before charging towards me and taking my arm in his icy grip.

"Come to the sitting area. I will stoke the fire and you can get warm." He pulled me to my feet.

"Why did you-?"

"There are certain things in this world that you couldn't possibly fathom. Please, remove yourself from my bedroom."

I followed him silently back up the short flight of stairs and sat heavily on the dusty settee. I watched the fire come alive once more, the flames slowly consuming the tinder strategically placed around the hearth by Erik's quick movements. The warmth caressed my bear arms and legs and for the first time since consciousness, I felt comfortable.

Erik rounded the couch and entered into another door on the opposite wall as the drawing room.

Where the hell is he going now?

I left the comfort of the fireplace and entered into the dark room after him. It was a mini kitchen, with a very old looking stove, a sunken sink and a few counter tops with eating accessories lined across them. There were dark wooden cabinets along the wall and one tall pantry right next to the door.

He fiddled with some contraption on the far corner, muttering curses to himself until the thing groaned and came to life. Warm air trickled throughout the room.

"Um...what are you doing?" I asked, wrapping the sheet closer to me as I leaned against the door frame.

"I was lighting the furnace, a stubborn piece of metal in its old age." His hands smoothed back his dark, inky hair and he closed the grate in front of the glowing coils. "Since you are here in my home, I figured I would try to be a proper host and offer you some refreshment."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine." My brow hitched in a curving arch watching him fumble around his kitchen.

Erik stopped his searching to address me, "Mademoiselle, surely you wish to regain your strength so you can return home. God knows I do. You need something in your stomach."

One by one, the cupboards opened and closed and he continued to rummage through his kitchen. Eventually, he produced a kettle, and a small, blue tin that clattered to the counter.

He eyed me warily. "I am not accustomed to having guests in my house...forgive me."

I left my station at the door frame and as my stomach let out a defiant growl, I began searching through the pantry. It was practically empty, save for a few cans of food and a pack of lemon tart cookies at the very top of the pantry. The wood creaked as I used the bottom shelf to heighten myself.

Erik finished arranging the kettle onto the stove, reached over my head and retrieved the package before giving me a stern look.

"By all means, help yourself."

I shrugged and took the package of cookies back to the settee in front of the raging fire. I tore the package open and bit into the bitter morsel. The thought of how strange this whole scenario was made me chuckle in exasperation. Never in my life of anomalies did I ever think I would end up on the couch of an estranged masked man. Who, at the moment, was making me something to drink.

A short while later, he returned with a tray of two mugs and a steaming kettle. He placed it on the end table next to the chair and poured out the hot liquid into the cups. He extended one to me, I accepted and took a cautious sip.

"No sugar?" I asked as my face screwed up in disgust. He glared at me before sitting down himself. "Right...no sugar then."

"Do you have the faintest idea of who those men were that attacked you? It seemed as if someone sent them." He asked, fingering the rim of his cup but did not take a drink.

I took another sip and let the weight of the question bear down on me. My body relaxed against the couch as the tea warmed my insides. "I have a feeling my past may be catching up to me...things that happened long ago that I desperately am trying to forget."

Erik picked up his mug and held it lightly between his fingers. "Do you think it has anything to do with your prior drug use?"

"How did you know that?" I gripped the cup within my fingers as he regarded me carefully.

"I am a man of many resources." He smirked.

"You read my case files…? You _read_ my case files!? Do you have any sense of privacy?" I jabbed the question, my eyes shooting daggers at him.

"It was a strategic advantage. Does it not comfort you to know that I place no judgement against you?"

"How kind of you..." I coldly remarked, as I adverted my gaze to the crackling flames.

"Cassarah, things happen. Things have happened in my life that I wish I could bury deep within the graves of my mind. The atrocities of my past are a constant reminder as to why I shun myself away from the thriving population above. It's better that way. Your transgressions are nothing compared to mine. Though, in my instance, it is my past memories that haunt me, not ex-drug dealers."

"One of the attackers mentioned Mac...he was the kingpin back in my old world of drugs and hustling and money. He was ruthless and demanded loyalty from his little puppets. If he suspected you for a moment, you would be dead..." I cringed as that one fateful night forced its way into my mind.

"Why would they be after you after all these years?" He sat back and stroked his chin.

"Why do you care? It's not like it's any of your concern...where is my bag?" I asked, peering around the sitting room. I didn't remember seeing it in the bedroom.

He reached behind the armchair and pulled the bag off from the floor. He threw it towards me and then took one sip from his mug.

I rummaged through it until I caught the familiar corner of my pack of cigarettes. I dished one out from the container and held it between my lips. When my gaze returned to Erik, I noticed he was intently watching me.

"Do you mind?"


	10. Chapter 10 - Revelations

_**Finally,**_

 _ **I have had the time to edit and post this chapter. In the last chapter, we had Cassie waking up in Erik's home and found out a little more of our friend's temper and internal struggle. This is a continuation of that night, in the perspective of our beloved Opera Ghost. Please read and review – I love hearing your thoughts.**_

 _ **J.D**_

The flame engulfed the end of the cigarette as Cassarah greedily sucked the smoke into her lungs. True, I detested the habit but who was I to deny her the release?

This was the first time I had ever allowed anyone into the deep, secluded sanctuary I called my home. Her very presence was stifling, and I fought the urge to excuse myself back to my room. The young woman in front of me, scantily dressed, did not seem perturbed by her surroundings, nor did her present company and it puzzle me. Even the Daroga was uncomfortable around me. She only seemed curious, a trait I began to find somewhat alluring.

I watched transfixed by her movements as she took another drag on the cigarette. The smoke oozed out of her mouth and wrapped itself around me. The act struck a certain cord, sending waves of sensations to the pit of my stomach. She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and played with the delicate skin, deep in thought. My eyes traversed the length of her bare legs, over the tattered remains of her dress and across the plain of her collarbones, dipping scandalously down to-

I cleared my throat.

She broke from her reverie and peered at me through the haze of smoke. She bit her lip once more as I looked away.

"How did you and the chief of security become friends?"

My head shot back to her. The question caught me off guard and I narrowed my eyes. "The Daroga and I are hardly what you would call, 'friends'."

"Daroga?" Her brows dipped and she rested the cigarette off her lips. I swallowed.

"Persian word for police. Think of it as a term of endearment. Amir likes to pretend he is my keeper. He believes that because he saved my life, he can hold it over me. But what he doesn't understand is I have had many opportunities to end him just out of sheer irritation. Don't believe everything he tells you."

"He didn't really say anything. You've said more than he has..." The sheet slipped down her arm to reveal a bare shoulder shimmering in the firelight.

"I haven't even skimmed the surface." I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from her skin.

The silence grew between us with only the popping of the embers from the hearth echoing around the warmed sitting area. She sighed.

"So I've been told you're a musical genius?" She asked, nudging the butt of the cigarette with her thumb. The ashes fell deafly to the floor.

"A genius?" I watched as they scurried across the stone. "I have a profound understanding of the subject therefore granting me the ability to manipulate music in ways never heard before. It is not just notes and sounds, it comes alive when I play it. And I become the music. It's the one thing on this earth that doesn't shy away from me and I am at its beck and call."

"I can understand the attraction. In rehab, I couldn't sleep...they had a piano in the common room. I would spend hours on that thing, playing until my wrists hurt..." She paused for a moment, looking down at the stone floor. "Sometimes I feel like that was the only thing keeping me from giving up. It kept the guilt of my stupid decisions from suffocating me."

"Allowed you to breathe again."

She looked up at me and her gaze pierced through my soul. "Yes, exactly."

I sat up straighter in my chair. "Do you play well?"

"I play as well as any other self-taught piano player." She smirked. "Nothing like an angel of music, that's for sure."

"Well if you play anything like you dance, I presume you at least have the sense of rhythm. Can you read music?"

"I cannot..."

"Well then how did you learn to play?"

"Mostly by ear. I know enough to get by."

I scoffed. "You don't play music simply to get through it. You play it how it deserves to be played."

"Well then, musical genius, demonstrate for me." She challenged me, her eyes sparkling playfully.

"I have nothing to prove to you, mademoiselle. My genius is not something I care to showcase for the enjoyment of a silly ballet dancer."

"So you admit it, then. Suit yourself. I had my doubts anyway..." She stood up and tossed the spent cigarette into the hearth.

Wrapping the sheet tighter around her slim frame, she began perusing my bookshelves. Her fingers caressed the worn bindings of the volumes crammed next to each other. She reached the bottom of the bookcase and turned to the left and noticed in the dark corner of the room, a small piano tucked away. She waltzed over to it. Her fingers ran over the silky keys, riding the black, raised bumps as her eyes searched around the room for her next target.

I sat watching her, my head cradled within my fingertips as the awkwardness of the situation settled once more. Cassarah's nosey interrogation of the things in my sitting room made me feel as if I were under investigation. She was given a small glimpse into my life and the uncomfortable feeling made me stand and clear away the tea cups and the steaming kettle.

Once in the galley, I let out a relieved breath and set to washing the cups and emptying the contents of the kettle. My mind retraced the last few hours of this strange night. The urge to protect this beautiful stranger was confusing to me. It was illogical to become involved in such a circle of events but the dangerous outcome forced me to act. All my life, I've been presented situations that tested my moral bearings, countless times, yet somehow, even when I'm saving one person's life, it's tainted by the blood of someone else's.

Death always followed me as if the mark left on my face and my body was some territorial binding. Everywhere I went, anyone I touched, faced some misfortune. I was cursed, damned to live this fate of transcending evil and bear the weight of all its consequences. It's precisely why Kristina was so important to me. Her light blinded the darkness of my life and melted away the impenetrable ice which caged my withered heart from coming alive. And now she was leaving me, forcing that ice to freeze over once more...

The teacup shattered under the pressure of my fingers and the thoughts that gripped them. Cursing, I swept the remains of the cup into the waste bin and leaned against the counter. My fingers curled into my palms and etched their way into the calloused skin. The fury of my thoughts made my body quake and before I could even act on them, a few disconnected notes from the piano played out.

I dried my hands on the dish rag and chucked it carelessly onto the counter. I peered into the sitting room and saw in the corner, the dancer sitting at the piano, her fingers poised over the keys. The sheet was discarded on the bench around her, her long tresses flowing down her spine like a sea of fire.

Standing silently outside of the galley, I listened as she began an unfamiliar tune, softly echoing out into the sitting room. Her fingers moved awkwardly across the keys, her posture slumped over the instrument while the song began to pick up speed. I crept forward to get a better look at her technique. It was painfully obvious she never had formal training but at least the music didn't suffer too much.

Each stroke of the key caused a twitch in my fingers, the compulsive need to correct her playing becoming a burden to my patience. I stood directly behind her, and unable to hold back anymore I reached over her shoulders and stilled her fingers.

Her breath hitched. "Like this, Cassarah."

Her fingers rose up and molded to mine as I repositioned them to the correct stance. Her skin was warm and velvety against the cool, rough edges of my fingers. They hovered for a moment while I inspected her form.

"Good. Back straight," My trembling fingers pushed against the small of her back while it yielded to my pressure. "Shoulders back." I pulled at her arms and she straightened. My fingers briefly caressed hers once more. "Fingers relaxed."

Cass turned her head towards mine, her blonde, wispy hair grazing my unmasked cheek, igniting the flesh as if it were on fire. She swallowed violently. "Now try to play, but remember to keep your wrists lifted and your fingers arched. There is no grace in a saggy posture."

She began the tune again, this time with a more determined air. The song sounded sturdier and her technique greatly improved her movement across the deck. The tune was jovial and the flowing rhythm matched the cascading bass before the pitch altered once more. The sounds swirled as she brought the song to a climax. She lifted the heavy tune and began again with lighter, higher notes.

"I wasn't aware that you were watching." She bit her lip in concentration. "I would have attempted to look decent."

"I beg your pardon, but there was nothing decent in how you were playing."

"Not pardoned." She smirked.

Once the song was finished, she turned toward me, stood and dipped low in a mocked curtsy. When she righted, she smiled at me and I was horrified to find I returned the gesture.

"Bravo, mademoiselle. Perhaps you should pursue a career as a pianist." My arms crossed over my chest as she stepped towards the settee.

"I do enjoy your sarcasm."

I rolled my eyes.

"It's your turn, Erik." Cass mirrored my stance and her eyebrow lifted to challenge me yet again. "I braved the embarrassment of an "Angel of music" critiquing my playing. Don't you think I deserve a reward for that?"

"That is hardly worthy, Cassarah."

"I'm going to keep asking until you say yes." She gripped the back of the couch with her wide set fingers and stared at me.

I feared she was right and to offer me some form of peace I relented. "Very well, but only for the sake of my nerves."

I opened the door to my bedroom and instantly began to pace from wall to wall. I couldn't quiet the sensations billowing around my chest and stomach. The woman upstairs was utterly trying with her constant questions and her devilish glances at me. I knew playing for her was a sacred act I only bestowed upon Kristina, and in a way I felt like I was cheating her by sharing it. However, the prospect of returning to the living room empty handed seemed...wrong.

Sighing heavily, I grabbed the violin and bow from its perch and made to leave the room. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The image staring back at me looked nothing like a dashing, handsome man, but a ghoul in expensive dress clothes and unsettled hair that fell haphazardly around the outskirts of a mask. I gave the image a glare and left the room behind me in an angry huff.

When I returned to the sitting room, Cassarah was standing in front of the fire playing with one of my souvenirs from a trip to Asia many years ago. She fingered the long brass trinket, mindlessly circling it around in the fire light. Her face screwed up in confusion as she held a finger over one of the openings.

"If you ever wish to play the piano again, I would refrain from indulging that venture." I pointed at her hands with the bow.

She jumped and the object clanged to the floor. "Jesus! You need to start announcing yourself or something...what is it?"

"It's a Chinese Finger Trap. Modified...naturally."

"Oh."

She replaced the trap back to its place on the mantel and eyed me curiously.

"Sit." I sighed as she obliged and placed the instrument to rest under my chin. "Is there anything in particular you wish to hear?"

"Impress me." She wrapped the sheet around her shoulders and tucked her hands under her arms in a hugging embrace.

"Well then, your majesty, impress I shall." The arrogance seeped through my voice as I positioned the bow onto the strings.

The song started off with a slow, melodic tempo, a high vibratory wail in a repetitive introduction. The notes repeated over a few times before they dipped into a dramatic course of sharp, steep strokes. I felt my blood begin to burn with each thrust of the bow against the strings while the music quickened. I opened my eyes to peer at Cass, who stared evenly back at me, utterly bewildered at the intensity of the sounds echoing around her. The song had barely begun and she was already drunk off of the intoxicating music and I couldn't suppress a smirk. The pace quickened more, and as the notes carried away into a fevered climax, I swayed into the urgency of the ambiance. My fingertips danced along the strings, moving almost unseen along the fingerboard and the bow screeched as if I were possessed.

A severe sense of longing bubbled within me as I imagined Kristina sitting on the settee across from me. It should be her with me right now, instead of the ballet dancer. But how ironic is this utter misfortune?

Cassarah was looking at me with such vigor, I almost dropped the bow. She was so far into the music that the bed sheet had crumpled around her while her hands absently caressed her naked thigh. A new feeling that started deep within my belly coursed painfully throughout my body and caused me to abruptly stop. She seemed to snap out of her hypnotic state and blinked rapidly a few times.

She suddenly stood and took a step closer. "That was beautiful." She was breathless. "It definitely puts my playing to shame." Her tooth gripped her lip and tugged it into her mouth.

"Thank you." I placed the instrument down onto the end table. We both stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"You know...you aren't exactly what I was expecting. You're very different when you aren't fulfilling your ghostly persona." She waved her hands in the air around her head.

"You, my dear, are exactly as I expected, nosy and completely unrelenting."

She chuckled. "Maybe you should try being this way more often. Maybe you'd find people wouldn't be so afraid of you."

"Perhaps I want people to be afraid of me."

"You don't mean that."

"I do mean it! My whole life I have dealt with the cruelty of humanity and to be frank, I'm sick of it. I have let go of the possibility of normalcy a long time ago and I find that if people fear me, then perhaps they are more likely to keep their prejudices to themselves and save me the disappointment. As I said before, fear simplifies things." I spat out.

Her smile melted away like ice on a warm, winter day. "People may just need a chance to understand. Fear is mostly from the unknown."

"Enough, Cassarah."

"Some people are more forgiving then others-" She took a step closer and reached out a hand towards me.

I snatched it and roared, "I said enough!"

A look of shock transposed to a look of rage. "I'm trying to be a friend, in spite of everything that has happened because I can see you want to reach out to someone, anyone."

"I don't."

"But obviously you are too much of an asshole to realize that."

"And what do you know? How could you possibly understand the complete rejection of my entire life?"

"Don't start that bullshit, Erik. You aren't the only human being on this planet who has suffered!"

"Your misfortunes were governed by poor, life decisions. Those were your own fault. I was born this way, I never had a choice!"

"You chose to hide away like a coward and for what reason? Because you're ugly? I admit, I made bad decisions but I'm at least trying to move on with my life, not deny it."

"You know nothing about me. Think whatever you wish, Cass. But you...You are far more naive than I for having hope. You think if you go to your _little_ meetings and perform your _meaningless_ shows, that one day you will have another chance. No amount of repentance will _ever_ change what happened with you, your life and even your son."

She stepped back as if I had physically hit her and her arms instinctively circled her stomach. "Don't you ever speak about my son... _ever_!"

I should have apologized for even after the statement came rushing out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it. And yet the anger at her implied accusations weighed down my tongue.

"I think its best that I take you home now." The frustration within me threatened to spill over and my fingers dug into my palms.

"Thank God." She bent down and grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Lead the way."

XxX

The flame from the lighter exploded the cavernous space with light for a moment and was followed by an angry puff from Cassarah. She stood right outside of the front doors and waited while I prepared for our journey back up to civilization. I thought it best to deposit her out from the dressing rooms for good measure. In all honesty, she's damn lucky I didn't shove her out of my home and wished her adieu. Or worse yet, introduced her to my secret little room behind the bookcase, equipped with a special iron tree.

'Because you're ugly?'

The words replayed in my head as the hurt churned within my chest. It had been a rather long time since I've heard those words and the effects were nearly crippling. For a fleeting moment, I thought maybe this time things would have ended up differently. But it always returned to the same, stark truth. I was cursed to be singled out for nothing more than being born different.

I grabbed my cloak and stuffed the thin wired lasso into my pocket before exiting my home. For a long time, I kept this particular weapon stowed away while I haunted the opera. There wasn't a need for self-preservation. However, after the previous night's events, I found it more than acceptable to be armed.

The door slammed closed behind me and I motioned Cass to follow. She stumbled across the sandy shore while her heels sank into the loose earth.

"Ugh." She kneaded the bandage as her face screwed up in pain.

"It would be wise if you sought out a doctor when you return home. I took care of the wound but you could have underlying problems."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine." She gave her forehead one last rub and continued towards me.

I took the lantern hanging off of its hook and triggered a concealed spring along the far side of the cavern. The stone rumbled open and revealed a shallow incline into a pitch black hallway.

"Seriously? This is way too Indiana Jones for me..." She flicked her cigarette into the void above the lake and entered the hallway.

I said a silent prayer for some patience and followed her. The entryway closed behind us, leaving the glowing ring from the lantern as the only source of guiding light. She abruptly stopped in front of me and I almost doubled over to prevent a collision.

"Maybe it's best if I lead..." I skirted around her and began down the hall. "We don't need any accidents."

"Accidents?" The panic rose within her voice.

I turned back to see her frozen still at the entry. "The cellars of the opera are nothing short of a maze and within the maze, there are certain hindrances that were put in place to thwart the curious."

I retreated back to her and gently took her wrist within my grasp. She jumped. "Your hands are freezing."

" _My apologies_." I sneered. "It's part of being a ghost."

I tugged on her and soon we were making decent progress through the lower portion of the labyrinth. This was the easier part of the journey for when we were to approach the upper sections, we would then have to be quiet, and I wasn't entirely sure Cass was capable of that.

We came to the third floor cellars, and the underground rotunda. The ceiling reached high above into looping arches and swirling columns that towered into the stonework. There were half a dozen archways circling in varying directions, each either leading to a different wing of the opera or back down toward the underground lake. I made for the farthest entrance to the right but felt resistance.

I turned around and was surprised to see the dancer looking around in astonishment. Her mouth hung open as her eyes traveled along each column and bend, like a painter envisioning a masterpiece. She couldn't absorb it fast enough.

"I've never seen anything like this before in my life. I wish there was more light in here..." She whispered while she took a turn about the room.

"It is quite incredible. Though, as much as I'd love to explain the intricate architectural details behind all of this, we are pressed for time."

It was early morning and soon the opera would be crawling with life. The situation was complicated enough, I didn't want to add insult to injury with the threat of capture looming over us. She shook her head in understanding and fell in line behind me.

The silence would have been a comfort if it wasn't filled with the constant sighing from Cass behind me. She was still angry. Her irritation was palpable, seeping into my soul and churning my own emotions. She huffed again into the cramped pathways of the second floor cellars. She hardly said a word to me and she purposely kept her distance. Her arms stayed tightly wound around her chest while her eyes burned holes into the back of my head.

Finally, after the eighth sigh, I stopped our procession and addressed her.

"If you are expecting an apology, I have none to give." I grumbled. "I don't grovel for forgiveness."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Her teeth chattered in the cool, humid air.

A few more silent moments passed before I stopped again and turned to her. In one fluid movement, I removed my cloak and draped it around her bare shoulders. She stiffened, and I thought she was about to protest but she gave in after the warmth seeped into her. I pushed the triumphant feeling of victory away. I noticed she looked so very fragile wrapped in my cloak.

We began the steady incline up to the first floor cellar. The walls began to close in even more as the atmosphere changed ever so slightly. The cave like moisture from the previous levels began to dissipate the closer we came to the surface. The stone walls began to take more of a structural shape and even some sounds from life above began to trickle down from the thin walls and ceilings above. We rounded a spiral staircase and began the final incline to the same room i had been secretly visiting for the past few months.

The distilled light filtered down the hallway from the mirror before us. Cass peered around me and gasped at the sudden realize of our location.

"So that's how you did it...I knew it had something to do with the mirrors!"

"Mirrors can be quite deceptive..."

"So can Angels of music."

I switched the spring that opened the two way mirror and stepped into the dark, empty dressing room. "This is where I leave you. I'm sure you have plenty of things to do- perhaps cause more mischief?"

"It's usually my intention..." She crossed the threshold into the room and turned to look at me. "You're lucky you saved my life...I was planning on turning you in for attempted homicide. But I suppose you've redeemed yourself. For now. See you around, Erik. Stay out of trouble."

"Most likely not."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes and exited the dressing room.

I stood for a moment in the empty room and let out a long, heavy sigh. The thought of the quiet, solitary space of my home propelled me into a near sprint back down to the lake. I rehung the lantern, extinguished the light and barged through the front doors. The smell of stale smoke lingered in the warm sitting area. I wondered if I would ever be able to rid it of that smell and smirked.

I removed my hat and suddenly realized I had forgotten to retrieve my cloak from the girl. I'll eventually have to steal that back. Is it possible to steal something you originally owned?

I started toward the book shelf but stopped short in front of the glowing fire. I was not as alone as I hoped. Amir sat patiently in my arm chair, yet again, and regarded me dryly.

"Oh for god's sake!" I roared. "The very few times I wish for solitude..."

"Erik, how are you?" Amir tilted his head while he crossed his legs. "Well-I hope?"

This must have been some sort of trap for he was hardly ever this cordial. "What is it now, Daroga? You never present yourself for good news. I'm beginning to resent your little visits."

"A young man suffered a terrible accident the other night during the performance and scared the audience half to death. His career is most likely ruined. Perhaps you could shed some light on this mysterious event?" He cocked on eyebrow up.

"It was obviously equipment malfunction. The reputation of those stagehands really precedes them." I opened the cupboard on the bottom of the bookcase and retrieved a fresh bottle of bourbon. Breaking the seal, I turned back towards him. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Yes, please." He responded hastily.

Out of all the times I had offered such a drink to the Daroga, he almost always refused. Unless, of course he had exceptionally bad news to share. Still, I poured two generous cups of the sweet liquor and settling myself next to the mantel of the fireplace, I handed him his cup.

"Is that all you needed to ask me?" I took a drink and watched as he followed suit. "You didn't come all this way to hear my opinion of this."

"Perhaps you could consider having tea instead of this blasted stuff next time?" He grimaced as he took another sip.

"Enough evading the subject. Why have you come?"

"Erik, you're in trouble. Management is infuriated. They blame you for Friday night's events and feel like you have cost them greatly. Not only did you injure a dancer mid performance, which is going to cost them a great deal of money from hospital bills alone and the threat of a lawsuit, but you also caused trouble with a very influential man by stealing his box tickets. They had to refund his money and give him free seats."

"They had the nerve to sell my box! I could have killed him but I thought of you and decided to do the lesser of two evils. What difference does it make now? The man got what he wanted...I'm beginning to think its time I put my nose back into this business. I've been silent way too long." I downed the rest of the drink and slammed the glass down onto the end table.

"You would be doing yourself a disservice, my friend. These managers aren't the brightest, but they are bold. They won't think twice about sending a brigade of men down here to flush you out."

"Let them do it. It's becoming quite boring down here anyways." I left my post at the mantle to lounge across the settee.

There was a pause before Amir pressed on. "Why did you do it, Erik? The boy did nothing to you, had no connections to you whatsoever. I have known you far too long to believe this was done without reason."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose to alleviate the pressure building. "...it was truly accidental, at least for the boy's injuries. I was aiming for the dancer, the girl. Were you aware that Kristina was interested in that London retreat?"

"I am head of security. I don't necessarily converse casually with the managers unless it was about something specific to security."

"Cassarah, she convinced Kristina to leave for London. There is an opportunity to study there and I knew she did it just to spite me. So I had every intention of scaring her. I just miscalculated..."

"You will never learn. Sometimes revenge isn't worth the pain and suffering of others." Amir finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the table. He stood up and checked his watch. "I should be going. My shift starts in an hour."

He grabbed his jacket and made for the front door. "Management instructed me to deliver the news that you'll be put on unofficial house arrest for the time being."

" _Meaning_?" I narrowed my eyes. The thought of being caged in this building by force was laughable.

"You will be watched, the exits and entrances will be monitored by newly installed infrared cameras. If you are caught outside of this building you will be detained and arrested."

I laughed heartily. "This is a joke, right? Some sort of game?"

The Daroga's shoulders sagged and for the first time I notice the wrinkles around his eyes and the grays beginning to sprout throughout his beard. "No, Erik. I told you last time we talked that if you were to do anything stupid again, there would be consequences. They wanted to arrest you right away, but I convinced them I would be able to coerce you into obliging their wishes."

"That's impossible! I will not remain a prisoner here under the order of those two fools. I won't abide."

"Suit yourself, my friend. I bid you adieu." He regarded me carefully before shrugging on his jacket and made his way toward the door.

"I saved her life that night." I said before I even knew what I was saying.

"Pardon?" He stopped misstep and slowly turned back towards me. "Who do you mean?"

"I saw Cass leaving here at around 3 in the morning alone on the night of the performance. Apparently she was seeking me out for an explanation. It was then that I noticed the three men following her. They intended to violate her and then kidnap her. I fought them off, even killed one and brought her back here. I tended her wounds...I played music for her." The words sounded distant as if someone else far away was reciting them.

He stared at me in silence.

"I can't tell you why I brought her back here. She would have eventually gained consciousness, someone would have helped her and yet I couldn't make myself leave her there."

Amir walked back around the settee and kneeled before me. "You know, Erik, even though you believe you're nothing but a heathen damned to walk this earth, no matter how hard you try not to believe it, you're still human." He clamped his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"She was in my home. She played my piano and she questioned everything. She practically went through my belongings. I detested every moment of it..."

"That somewhat explains why it smelled like an ashtray in here."

"...and yet, I enjoyed some of her company. That is until she started talking about my life and how I should live it."

Amir stood up and returned to the foyer. "All women are mostly the same. They think they are always right and believe they know what's best for you. Please be careful, no more accidents, eh? My job is stressful enough, I can't afford to lose it over your temper tantrums. I will tell the management that what happened was purely coincidental. Don't make me regret it!"

"And the girl?"

"I will talk to her and see if there is anything that can be done."

He closed the door behind him.

A feeling of unrest bubbled within me. I stood and poured myself another drink even though I fully believed the alcohol could not still these feelings within from festering.


End file.
